Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring
by Little Masa-ouki
Summary: It's Harry's Sixth year and he must adjust to live without Sirius, fight Voldemort, and juggle a now hectic love life, all while keeping his grades up.
1. OWLs and Owls

Protectus Mibutus. The Disclaimer Spell. This simple spell demonstrates that the characters here within are property of J. K. Rowling, who is quite possibly the greatest story teller ever.  
  
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Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Owls and O.W.L.s  
  
The morning sun peeked over the horizon, bringing light and color to a row of houses that not only looked exactly like each other, but also looked exactly like they had forty years ago, and, in all likelihood, like they would forty years from now. For this was Privet Drive, which did not tolerate change, because Privet Drive was perfectly ordinary, thank you very much, and any change, aside from the occasional new car, was therefore a step away from ordinary. The residents of Privet Drive did not put up with the unordinary.  
  
True, they did put up with Harry, who was about as unordinary as they come, but in their defense, most of them didn't realize how unodrinary he was, and even so, it was very grudgingly that they did put up with him. Even the sun seemed to have it in for young Mr. Potter, as it's rays shot through Harry's window, waking him with a blinding light and super heating his room until it resembled a sauna.  
  
Harry groaned and pulled his blanket over his head, but while that blocked out the light, it only made things hotter. Finally, he got out of bed and, hot, tired, and covered with sweat, made his way to the window.  
  
As he fought to open the stubborn window, he looked mornfully at the bare curtain bar above it. Dudly was to blame, of course. He had come home with the largest trophy Harry had ever seen. Harry had asked who Dudley beat up to get it, which promptly lost him his dinner and earned him a crack on the head with Dudley's smelting stick. Turned out that we wasn't far off, as it was for being the national heavyweight boxing champ, junior division. The moment Dudley put it in his room, he declared that it would look much better against the curtains in Harry's room. In a flash, Uncle Vernon moved the curtains to Dudley's room, leaving Harry to face a summer of unpleasant awakenings like today's. When Harry asked Uncle Vernon when he'd put up Dudley's old curtains in his room, Vernon told him to do it himself, then promptly refused to let him borrow a screwdriver. Harry was pretty sure the whole thing was Piers Polkiss's idea, as it was too elaborate for Dudley, who had problems remembering that the sun rose in the east.  
  
Finally, Harry unstuck the window. He slid it open and was immediately greeted by a very tired and angry Hedwig.  
  
"Hedwig! Are you alright?" Harry placed the bird in it's cage and pointed the beat up old fan towards her. "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting you back so soon, or I would have stayed up. The window won't stay open in the cold night air."  
  
Hedwig appeared to have accepted his apology. She gave him a feeble peck and then held out her leg, revealing his Hogwarts letter. Harry removed the letter from Hedwig's leg, then filled her water bowl and set aside some owl treats for when she recovered a bit. Then he sat down on the bed and looked at the letter. It was much thicker than usual. Hoping for news from Dumbledore, he hastily tore it open. He mentally chastized himself, as the extra thickness was, of course, due to the OWL result cards. With a nervous gulp he flipped through them.  
  
Charms: Theory : O - Outstanding  
  
Practical :E - Exceeds Expectations  
  
He sighed in relief. He had come out of the written test feeling good, but months of worry had edged away his confidence. He did even better than he thought! But what the real relief was, is that his spell mix-up in the practical didn't hurt him too much, although he may have been able to get an Outstanding there too if he had turned his rat orange instead of into a monster. He flipped to the next card.  
  
Transfigurations:Theory :E - Exceeds Expectations  
  
Practical :E - Exceeds Expectations  
  
Harry knew he should be relieved, but he couldn't help be a bit disappointed. He was hoping for an O on the practical. He also thought it didn't seem quite fair that he lost an O to the theory because he forgot the definition of a Switching Spell, which was now burned into his memory by Hermione constantly reminding him ("How could you forget such a simple thing Harry. The primary function of a Switching Spell is...")  
  
Herbology:Theory : P - Poor  
  
Practical :A - Acceptable  
  
He winced at that one. He had thought he'd done better on the written test. It wasn't that big a deal since he was going to drop Herbology anyway. It wasn't really necessary for an Auror, as all the more dangerous plants were covered in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the more useful ones in Potions.  
  
Defense Against the Dark Art :Theory : O - Outstanding  
  
Practical : O - Outstanding  
  
He smiled at that. He would have been disappointed at anything less. There was a section for notes beneath the scores. No teacher had bothered writting one until here, where Tofty had scrawled, "Beautiful Patronus!" in a surprisingly sloppy handwritting. But Harry's smile soon fell. The next card would be Potions, and that would decide his fate. He brieflly wondered what else he might try for. He thought about playing Quidditch professionally, but other than that, he couldn't think of anything.  
  
Potions:Theory : O - Outstanding   
  
Practical : O - Outstanding  
  
Harry sighed audibly at that one. He had been really worried, ever since he realized he forgot that lemonroot was a primary ingrediant to the Blitter Blighter Brew. Harry supposed the bonus points he got for answering the extra questions on the combination of asphodel and wormwood, how to find a bezoar, and the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane may have made up for that. But the important part was, he could continue taking Snape's class. Harry laughed at the fact that he was actually happy about continuing Snape's class.  
  
Care of Magical Creatures :Theory : A - Acceptable  
  
Practical : O - Outstanding  
  
The A came as a bit of a disappointment. He'd thought he'd done better. But the O should make up for it. He'd have to show Hagrid this. The loveable half-giant would definitely be pleased.  
  
Astronomy :Theory : A - Acceptable  
  
Practical : P - Poor  
  
Below the scores was another one of Tofty's scribbled notes. "Grades have been lenient to reflect the attrocious distraction that took place during the test." It was even sloppier than the last one, and Harry realized it's because Proffesor Tofty had repeadedly scrawled this across the entire fifth year Astronomy cards. Even with the lenient grading, Harry had gotten a poor. He remembered the "attrocious distraction," all too well. Proffesor Umbridge and her gang attacked Hagrid, and then Proffesor McGonagal, when she tried to save him. Harry supposed that maybe his grade should have been a bit higher, since he was distracted before the rest, but he didn't see what he could do about it now, so he went on, with some dread, to Divinations, which had no theory test, only practical.  
  
Divinations :Practical : 0 - Outstadnig  
  
Harry blinked and read it again. He couldn't believe it. Especially since the card had previously said "Poor" but that had been crossed out and the new score had Professor Marchbanks initials next to it. Hastily, he glanced down at the notes, where Marchbanks had written a very long note in tiny, neat letters:  
  
"Grade has been modified to reflect revelations held after the test. Proffesor Tofty reminded me that it was indeed the prior Tuesday that I was nearly run over by that infernal Knight Bus. In addition, shortly after leaving Hogwarts, on my way to the apparating point, I ran into portly Mr. Robar, the keeper of the Post Office, who had locked himself out in the rain. While Harry's direct application of teachings in Divinations is lackluster, his intuitive capabilities are top of the line."  
  
He couldn't believe it. He had lucked out! He had never made a correct "prediction" before in his life! Shaking with joy he flipped to the next card, which cut his happiness short.  
  
History of Magic:Theory : D - Dreadful  
  
He should have expected that. He could barely remember a single answer on that. Still, thirteen OWL's, seven of them Outstandings, was nothing to frown at.  
  
Sighing in relief, and feeling quite proud of himself, he set the OWL's aside and made a mental note to buy Hermione a thank you gift. There was also his supply list, but he'd look at that later. He noticed a final piece of paper in the envelope. Curiosly, he unfolded it and was greeted with Professor McGonagall's tidy handwriting.  
  
Dear Mr. Potter,  
  
Congratulations on passing all the requirements to study to become an auror. I needn't remind you that the hard part still lies ahead. Although it is not required that you continue your Divinations class, I recommend you do so. My own personal feelings on the subject aside, divinations looks good on your auror applications, and it's one more class for you to attempt to get your fifth NEWT in. If you find your workload gets too heavy, I'd advise you drop the class, but until then, keep the possiblitiy open. Though Umbridge is no longer a concern, I still intend to keep my promise. Therefore, I have included a list of regular hours I hold open to my most promising students. If you are having any problems in your classes, feel free to visit me at one of those times for some extra tutoring.  
  
On a more sombre note, I must remind you to be cautious whenever you leave the house. You will be able to rejoin the Weasleys shortly. Both of you should be prepared to leave two weeks from tomorrow. Remus will come by to collect you. Leave with nobody else, save Dumbledore himself.  
  
Signed,  
  
Professor Minerva McGonagall.  
  
P.S. Dumbledore would like a list of all your students from "Dumbledore's Army" who you feel can cast a sufficient Patronus.  
  
P.P.S. At opening feast let us have a toast to Delores Umbridge, who might learn a thing or two about predicting the future from Trelawny.  
  
Harry smiled at the last bit. If ever anything loosened up Professor McGonagall, it was her hatred for Umbridge. Although he couldn't stand the woman either, he felt that at least some good had come from it. He also made it onto McGonagall's advanced tutor list, which might not have happened if it weren't for her promise to spite Umbridge and make him an auror.  
  
He then paused and reread the note. It said both. But what did that mean. There was nobody here but himself, unless she was counting Hedwig, but he couldn't believe that was what she meant.  
  
A drop of sweat splattered onto the letter, and Harry was suddenly reminded of how very hot it was. He heard the squeking of Dudley's bed, and decided to race for the bathroom and claim first shower.  
  
Harry took his time in the shower, enjoying the feel of the cool water on his skin, and ignoring the pounding on the door, undoubtedly coming from Dudley. Harry had hoped that Dudley might have treated him better after he had saved the fat oaf's life last year, but that wasn't the case. He reasoned, as did Aunt Petunia, that if it weren't for Harry, he wouldn't have been in that situation in the first place, so they owed him nothing. The only reason Harry had any peace over this summer at all, was because Dudley had been put on probation for fighting outside the ring, and if he was caught again, he wouldn't be allowd to box anymore.  
  
When Uncle Vernon hollared through the door, Harry grudgingly turned off the water. He had the clothes for the day with him, leftovers muggle clothes he had borrowed from Ron, since there were no younger boys in the family. Ron was much taller than him, so they were still too big, (He had to roll up the cuff of the pants five times) but at least they weren't nearly as baggy as Dudley's clothes, which made him look like an American rapper.  
  
As Harry left the bathroom something struck him hard in the right cheek, spinning him around and dropping him to the floor. He looked up to see Dudley's massive body staring down at him, as he cracked his knuckles. Obviously, Dudley had finally realized that there were no teachers here to put him on probation.  
  
"You really must keep your guard up, old chap." Dudley smirked in a poor upper-crust-ish accent. "Bad form and all." Dudley had been trying to imitate his boxing coach's accent all summer. Harry seemed to be the only one to notice that he was failing. Uncle Vernon kept commenting on how he sounded like a true gentleman, while Petunia went on about how many ladies' hearts he would break. Harry thought he sounded like a donkey with a nasal congestion, and that he was more likely to break a lady's chair than a heart, but he kept those thoughts to himself.  
  
"How do you like my new invention?" Dudley laughed stupidly.  
  
"Last I checked, somebody already invented the fist, but I'll give you an O for trying."  
  
It's not a fist, you lunkhead!" Dudley roared in defense. In any other situation, short of a headlock, Harry would have found this funny. Harry realized he should try to diffuse the situation, but he didn't.  
  
"Funny," He said snidely, "It looks like a fist." He tenderly touched the side of his face and winced. He could feel the bruise beginning to form. "Certainly felt like a fist. But, hey, you're the boxing expert, so I'll take your word for it."  
  
"It's a boxing move." Dudley snarled, his face turning red. "I call it the Dudley Drummer." Again, common sense told Harry to back down, but Harry didn't listen.  
  
"I didn't realize boxers were allowed to jump their opponents coming out of the loo. Is that how you won the trophy? Couldn't handle a fair fight?"  
  
"That's it." Dudley said, shaking with rage, much as his father often did. "Get up." He ordered quietly.  
  
Harry made a big deal, moving as if to stand up, but merely got into a sitting position, cross-legged on the floor. "And why should I do that?"  
  
"So I can knock you down again." Dudley seethed, absently clenching and unclenching his fingers.  
  
"Hmmm, tempting, but I'll pass. What else ya got?"  
  
Harry doubled over as Dudley slammed his bare foot into his stomach.  
  
"Alright. I'll get up." Harry gasped. Inwardly, he chided himself for pushing Dudley's buttons. He briefly wondered how hard it would be to cast magic without any teeth.  
  
Fortunately, Harry had a plan he'd worked out earlier to get out of a situation like this. It would only work once, but he doubted things could get worse. As he stood up, he let his sleeve fall loose. It cascaded over his hand, and his wand, tucked inside, fell out and hit the hardwood floor with a loud clunk.  
  
Harry leapt away from the want as if it had become a snake, causing Dudley to blink in confusion. They both stood completely still for a moment, then Harry cautiously picked up the wand.  
  
"Whew!" Harry sighed, pretending to be relieved. "That was a close one."  
  
Dudley's reaction to Harry holding his wand was one of pure terror. "Wh-Wh-What do you mean? Y-Y-Your n-not allowed to d-do m-m-m-m-magic. Y-You'll get ex-expelled."  
  
"Oh, I wasn't going to cast a spell." Harry said, trying to act casual. "But you see, I've had this wand for five years. It's a bit tempermental."  
  
Dudley's brow furled as he tried to figure out what tempermental meant. Finally he gave up and stuttered, "But y-your n-not allowed to do m-m-m-ma- to do m-m-m-ma-ma-mag-m-m-m-ma-ma-"  
  
"I wouldn't be the one doing the magice though." Harry interrupted, when it became clear that Dudley couldn't bring himself to say the M word again. "But some wands just ATTACK when they get dropped."  
  
"Y-Y-Your l-l-lying. T-T-Tryint -t-to tr-tr-trick me."  
  
"No trick. Just last Christmas, I dropped it and it cut off my friend Ron's head. Mind you, we were able to put it back, but he didn't talk to me for a week. Now, where were we? Oh, yes. You were going to knock me down. I just hope I don't drop this again."  
  
Haryy went into an awkward fighting stance, his wand held clumsily between two fingers. Dudley, however, backed up against the wall and inched around Harry until he had a clear path to the stairs. He then bolted, his hands instinctively clapped to his fat bottom.  
  
Harry laughed as he heard Dudley trip and crash down the stairs. He knew other people getting hurt wasn't funny, but Dudley didn't count.  
  
"Like godfather, like godson." Harry said, thinking about how Sirius would have approved.  
  
The thought of Sirius dropped Harry faster than one of Hagrid's rock candies. He missed his godfather so much, the loneliness filled him like a balloon. It was like a great presence that he had to constantly resist, and the only reason he didn't just give up was because whenever he did give in, and he had, several times, nothing happened. Instead of the release he was promised, the anguish rushed in like floodwater through an open door.  
  
His sorrow soon turned, as it often did, back into anger. Anger at himself for letting his rage take control of him again. The same rage that nearly alienated his friends. The same rage that let Umbridge get the upper hand. The same rage that caused Sirius to die.  
  
Then there was the matter of the prophecy. A prophecy that said that Harry's only chance to survive was to defeat the most powerful dark wizard ever. He supposed his best hope was to try to take Voldemorte down with him. That way, at least the rest of the world would survive.  
  
Harry wondered if the fact that his own death only rated third heaviest in his own mind was funny or sad. Ultimately, he decided to consider it funny, because ther was enough sadness in his life already.  
  
"Harry Potter!" Uncle Vernon's roar shook Harry out of his reverie. He knew if he didn't answer now, Vernon would be even angrier when he did, but if he did face the music now, his temper would make things even worse. So Harry did the first intelligent thing he'd done all day, and went into his room and locked the door.  
  
The first thing Harry noticed was, perching on the foot of his bed, the tawny owl that delivered him the Daily Prophet and, free of charge, the Quibbler. Harry tried to take the papers from him, but the owl wasn't paying attention. Harry looked where the owl was staring.  
  
At first Harry though the little fuzzball on his dresser was Pig, until he realized there were two of the little creatures, neither of which had Pig's markings. They were fighting over the last owl treat in Hedwigs dish. Hedwig was sill asleep, dispite their racket.  
  
"Hey! Budge off!" Harry shooed the birds. "That's Hedwig's food!"  
  
The two miniscule owls finally noticed him and started chirping loudly as they picked up their deliveries. One had a box three times as big as him, but apparently very light, as he flew fast, clumsy circles around Harry's head, hitting him several times. The other had a much smaller but much heavier box, as it struggled to cross the room with it.  
  
Harry ignored both of them. He made a very big deal of untying the papers from the tawny's leg and giving him an especially large owl treat before sending him on his way.  
  
The little owl with the heavier package flopped onto the bed, and Harry decided it had suffered enough. He took the box, thanked the bird, and told him to stay until he was ready to go. It rested for a minute before bolting out the window, barely missing a tree as he did. He did the same for the other owl a moment later, not because it had suffered enough, but rather because Harry was tired of it clipping his newly formed bruise.  
  
Harry eyed the two packages curiosly. The large one was wrapped in paper that resembled the night sky, complete with a fantastic view of Venus and way too many shooting stars periodically crossing it. The other's paper had a swarm of pink and baby blue butterflies flittering across it. He considered opening them, but decided to check the paper first.  
  
The photo on the front of the Prophet was less than reassuring. It was of a tall, attractive, but powerfully built witch who was currently struggling against four wizards who were barely holding her back. Harry recognized her as Eliza Thumpgood, the new warden of Azkaban. She looked like she wanted to tear somebody's eyes out. Harry looked at the connected article and knew who, and could relate. The article was written by Rita Skeeter.  
  
Third Azkaban Breakout. New Warden Drops the Ball  
  
by Rita Skeeter  
  
Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, has assured us that he is in control of things and that the loss of dementors guarding Azkaban was not a problem. Today we know both these promises were lies.  
  
Yesterday morning, at approximately three o'clock in the morning, no less than four Death Eaters escaped when a newly arrived guard dragon went berzerk, smashing down the walls to their cells. Six other prisoners also escaped. Fudge has issued a statement that these six individuals were incarcerated for crimes unrelated to He Who Must Not Be Named, and pose no threat to the general public, but it is hard to believe him in face of the overwhelming evidence and undeniable rumors that suggest that these six were undercover agents who were caught for lesser crimes before they could act in You Know Who's name.  
  
The blame for this incident falls squarely on Miss Eliza Thumpgood, newly appointed warden to Azkaban. Miss Thumpgood not only failed to recognize a rabid dragon but also botched the attempt to recapture the escaped convicts.  
  
This article is continued on page 2  
  
Harry violently threw the paper down. The breakout was bad enough news, but to hear it from that horrible woman's vile green quill was more than Harry could stand. The fact that he had helped her reclaim her prosperity made him sick.  
  
Harry rolled over to reach for the mysterious packages and immediately regretted it. His stomach still hurt from Dudley's kick. Instead he sat up and pulled them closer.  
  
Harry's first thought was that they were birthday presents, even though his birthday was still ten days away. He also thought it odd, since nobody he knew would send packages wrapped so tackily. The star one was alright, if a bit over the top, but whoever thought he would appreciate pink butterflies needed his head examined.  
  
Deciding that waiting for his birthday would kill him with curiosity, he opened the small, butterflied package. Underneath the wrapping was a white box, which in turn held a bundle of oil soaked cloth and a letter.  
  
Harry flipped open the letter. It wasn't hand written, but rather typed, in rose red ink, in a fancy font where capital letters were formed from oddly shaped trees with fairies in them. It read:  
  
My Dear Sweetest Harry,  
  
I am sorry to have to give you your presents early, but the Fool told me that you would be traveling on your birthday, so I thought I should give this to you now. It is the Knight's Third Oath, also known as the Vow of Love. Legend says it will bring those who can wear it to their true love. My wishes to you, that you can wear it, and that it brings you to me.  
  
Good luck in these dark days. Remember that your lucky color is light purple, and to be careful of a man with pale blond hair. Take care.  
  
Signed  
  
Your Secret Admirer  
  
P.S. Thought you might need this.  
  
"This" turned out to be a small vial of "settle-mint" all purpose stomach medicine. Harry wondered briefly about the convinience of it all, but ultimately his stomach won out. Following the instructions, he snapped the cap off and poured three drops down his throat. He couphed at the powerful mint flavor, then sighed as his stomach immediately stopped aching. In a few moments, it was as if Dudley never kicked him. The vial still had about eight more drops, so he put it away in a drawer for later.  
  
Harry shook his head and unwrapped the oiled cloths. As he suspected, the object inside was metal, but he wasn't prepared for what it was. It was a silver metal armband, the length of his forearm, with gold inlays depicting a lady tying her scarf to the end of a knight's lance. The metal only covered the top half of the arm. It was held in place by a couple silver buckles, as well as a black silk sleeve sown into the underside.  
  
Harry admired the craftsmanship for awhile before wrapping it back up and putting it back in it's box. He then turned his attention to the second package. Inside it was a large midnight blue plush dragon. It was a silly looking thing with large marble eyes and bright white fangs forming a dopey smile. It's bright red dog collar identified it as "Harry the Hungarian Horntail." Harry laughed. He had fought a Horntail in the Triwizard Tournament two years ago, and they looked nothing like this plushie. Even if that monstrosity had white teeth instead of black, Harry doubted she would have ever smiled like an overgrown puppy. Although Harry knew that it was a coincidence that the plushie of the dragon he fought bore his name, the plushie being first made a year before, he was pretty sure that it wasn't a coincidence that somebody had taken the liberty of sewing a red lightning bolt on its forehead and little plastic glasses over it's eyes.  
  
Tucked into the dragon's collar was a note. Harry untied it, expecting more of the fancy printed text, but instead found an equally fancy, but hand written scrawl in saphire blue ink. Surrounding the body of the letter were cute little drawings of a boy and a girl walking hand in hand, rowing a boat, sharing a large soda, and similarly romantic stuff. The drawings were pretty good, dispite their size and Harry would have been able to identify the boy as himself even without the glasses and scar. The girl, however, was drawn meticulously without detail. She wore nondescript robes and was more or less Harry's height. The only clue to her identity he had at all was her shoulder length hair, which both covered her eyes and hid the outline of her face. Still, with the little bit he was given, she looked somehow familiar. Harry gave up looking for clues and read the letter.  
  
To my knight in shining armor.  
  
Happy birthday. This is a little token in honor of your victory over that fiercesome beast two years ago. That day you not only flew away with the dragon's egg, but also with my heart. Summer seems so lonely without you. I cannot wait for school to begin so I can see you again.  
  
Take care of yourself and don't let your relatives push you around too much. And tell your bratty cousin if he ever hits you again, I'll turn him into a newt. Hope this helps.  
  
There was no signature. In it's place was a larger, more detailed drawing of Harry and the girl kissing. Even with the extra size and detail, Harry had few more clues, as his inky doppleganger's hand and head obscured most of her face. Still, she somehow looked familiar, even though all he could see was her ear, which was nondescript, save for a simple earring.  
  
Harry rumaged through the box and found a Blue Salamander brand unending ice pack. He took off his glasses and slapped the blue bag against his bruise, enjoying the icy coolness as it numbed out the pain while he thought about the letter. Was this girl spying on him? He didn't know much about long distance viewing spells, except that they were called "scrying spell."  
  
He supposed that Dumbledore's spell would prevent anyone who wished him harm from scrying on him, so whoever this was, she was an ally. Stilll, Harry didn't like the idea of being spied on, even if it was by a friend. He liked the idea of being watched by a girl even less, especially considering where he'd been right before Dudley hit him. He'd have to ask Moody about that when he could.  
  
It was about then that he noticed something odd. Silence. Uncle Vernon had stopped yelling. Harry wasn't sure how long ago he had stopped, but he was sure something was up.  
  
Wand clenched tightly in his hand, Harry slid out the door, wincing at the slight creak it made. Slowly he made his way to the top of the stairs, and listened.  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry heard Aunt Petunia ask in a voice straining to remain calm.  
  
"I mean he's coming here! Tonight! Vernon said shakenly.  
  
"Are - are you sure?"  
  
"Yes. That was Arthur on the phone. He says it's tonight for certain. He risked a lot to tell me.  
  
A lump formed in Harry's throat. Arthur called? What could be so bad that Mr. Weasley would call the house, and be at risk to do so? Harry could think of only one thing; Voldemort!  
  
Harry had to consciously force himself to focus back on the conversation.  
  
"...maybe make a deal?" He heard Petunia finish asking.  
  
"Yes, that may be best." Vernon muttered. "Only way to walk out of this one alive, far as I can see. Who knows, might even come out ahead."  
  
Harry nearly dropped his wand in surprise. Uncle Vernon had held it against Harry ever since he had the nerve to show up unwanted, fifteen years ago, but he never thought Vernon would go so low as to sell him out to Voldemort.  
  
"Well, I'd better go talk to the boy." Vernon sighed. "Try to get him to see our side. Greater good and all that."  
  
Harry's shock turned to rage. Did they really expect him to go along with this? Just lay down and die, while Voldemort rewarded them? Well, if so, he had a surprise for them. It should be easy enough to paralyze them, and then he could sneak out the back when Voldemort's lackey's search the house. He might even enjoy watching Dudley struggle against a leglocker curse.  
  
Harry crept back into his room and started planning things. He'd have to pack light. He could release Hedwig with some of his things, and pack his books in Dudley's old school bookbag. He didn't have his broomstick, so he'd have to make it on ground. He'd have to hike towards a safe location.  
  
Harry paused as he heard a knock on his door. Quickly he thrust the backpack under the bed. He then climbed onto the bed and started pretending to read the Quibbler, right as Vernon opened the door.  
  
"Uh, hullo, Harry." Vernon said uncomfortably.  
  
Harry peered out from over the paper. "Hullo." He said dryly.  
  
"I brought you an ice pack. Heard that Dudley hit you. He's, ah, been punished for that."  
  
Harry held up the Blue Salamander pack. "Already got one."  
  
"Ahh, I see." Vernon mumbled, idly fiddling with the sneakoscope lying on Harry's dresser. "Um, you know that your reading that thing upside down?"  
  
Harry realized that he did indeed have the paper upside down. "Yes." He lied. "I'm looking at these special runes. You have to hold the paper upside down to read them right."  
  
"Ahh, I see." Vernon said again in a very lost tone. "Look, Harry. I'll be straight. I need you to do something for me."  
  
"I know."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yes, I heard you. And the answer is no."  
  
"Damn you boy!" Vernon shouted, forgetting himself. "I'm trying to be reasonable with you! I've been gunning for this promotion for years! I would have had it by now, if you hadn't messed things up with that dinner four yars ago!"  
  
"Wait," Harry blinked. "A promotion?!"  
  
"Yes, you bloody idiot! Why else do you think I'd pretend to like you!"  
  
Harry's mind was spinning. What was he talking about? "Who's coming tonight?" Harry asked bluntly.  
  
"Mr. Scorsby. My boss." Vernon hissed.  
  
"Why would Mr. Weasley call you about that?" Harry asked suspiciously?  
  
"That confounded fool?! I'd hang up in an instant!"  
  
"But you said Arthur-"  
  
"Mr. Arthur Billington is a good friend of mine at work." Vernon snapped. "Mr. Scorsby will be furious with him if he finds out he ruined his surprise visit. He likes to drop in on his employee's unannounced. 'Catching them in their true lives.' he calls it."  
  
"So what does all this have to do with me?" Harry asked. He'd be worried it was a trap, but Uncle Vernon had no imagination. There's no way he could come up with all that so fast.  
  
"Well, word got out that I had taken in my nephew." Vernon said, calming down and started talking in his uncomfortable way of trying to treat Harry like a real person. "In truth, I was ranting about how you ruined our fireplace, and he overheard. He, ahh, jumped to conclusions."  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry scowled.  
  
"He, ahh, thinks your a bit of a, um, how does he put it... 'Loveable, trouble-making rascal.' He's been fascinated with you ever since."  
  
"And you couldn't bring yourself to disillusion him, right?" Harry said, seeing where this was going.  
  
"No, he just kept building it up in his head. He, ahh, kind of fell in love with the image. If I told him the truth about you, well, I'd never get the promotion."  
  
"So you want me to play along."  
  
"Well, yes, that's pretty much it. I'd make it worth your while." He added hopefully.  
  
"How so?" Harry asked skeptically. He doubted Vernon had anything that he wanted.  
  
"Well. Ahh, I've noticed you've been puttering around lately, so I thought, if everything goes well, I could, um, give you Dudley's old video games?"  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed. This was the first time Vernon had offered to give him anything more than coat hangers and pocket change and that meant only one thing. Vernon was desperate. In a move that would make Dudley proud, or, since it was Harry, violently angry and jealous, Harry decided to leech as much as he could out of his uncle.  
  
"I've been getting Dudley's old hand-me-downs all my life. I think I'd like something new for a change."  
  
"You ingrateful little-"  
  
"Careful, Uncle." Harry said, enjoying every moment of this. "Or I won't cooperate at all."  
  
"Alright." Vernon said through clenched teeth. "If this goes well, and if I get the promotion, then I will buy you a brand new game system. Agreed?"  
  
"I want four new games for it too."  
  
"Two new games and I'll make Dudley share with you." Vernon said growing even redder. He was approaching purple so Harry knew it was time to call it quits.  
  
"Deal!" He said thrusting out his hand. Vernon scowled at it, then at him, then grudgingly accepted it.  
  
Suddenly, Vernon's eyes went wide. "We need to get you a suit!" He hollared, dragging Harry out of the room by his hand.  
  
The following four hours were a nightmare. Stuck, alone, with Uncle Vernon. Harry was beginning to wish it had been Voldemort who was coming to dinner. Vernon drove him all around town, looking for a good place to get a quick suit. He stopped at several cheap places first, but after tossing some ratty looking suits on Harry, finally, and reluctantly, decided that in order to make money, he'd have to spend it first.  
  
So that's how Harry ended up at Vernon's own tailor, Mr. Warson, who reminded Harry a lot of a muggle version of Olivander. Like Olivander and his wands, Warson had Harry try on different suits and then suddenly decide that they were wrong without Harry understanding a thing. The dark blue blazer and red tie, good for school functions, was discarded as Harry started to tie the tie, but Harry had barely put on the pants of the black three piece suit, good for business parties, before Warson pulled out the next one and demanded he put it on.  
  
Finally, Harry tried a suit that worked. It was a dark gray, open jacket suit with a bit of extra shoulder space and a silk loose collared shirt beneath and no tie, good for dances. As with the wands, Harry had a feeling that he didn't quite understand, that this was the right suit for him. Amazing how similar some muggles and wizards can be. That being said, if Mr. Warson mentioned the leather belt coming from the same cow as one worn by Voldemort, Harry would bolt.  
  
Looking at himself in the mirror, Harry realized something he hadn't before. He was practically grown up. He looked much handsomer than he thought, although he still didn't compare with the flattering drawing. He also realized, as Vernon stood, judging him, that he was taller than his uncle now. Funny how you miss things like that when you spend every waking moment trying to avoid eachother.  
  
Vernon and Harry had a quiet ride back. Vernon tried to break the awkwardness by complaining about one of his favorite things to complain about: motorcycles. Harry remained quiet, and decided that he needed to find out what happened to Sirius's bike. Once he did, he'd be sure to take it for a ride down Privet Drive at some point.  
  
"Oh, he's already here!" Vernon said, pointing at their drive way. From the way Vernon talked about him, Harry had expected him to show up in a Rolls Royce. Instead, a bright red Firebird parked in the driveway of Number Four Privet Drive, at a slight angle to the otherwise systematicly right angled world. Vernon got out of the car, then leaned back in to look Harry in the eye. "Now remember, boy-"  
  
"I'm a wild, carefree, but ultimately good willed boy thanks to your guidance as the kind uncle who took me in and raised me like a son."  
  
"Too right. And NO MAGIC!" Vernon snapped, before marching off to the front door. Harry waited a second, then followed, his suit slapping across his back as it dangled from the hanger he held over his shoulder. He tried to look carefree, something which he hadn't been in a long time, if ever.  
  
Mr. Scornsby turned out to be a large hearty man with a big beard and a bigger laugh. "So this is the famous Harry Potter!" He grabbing Harry's hand in a crushing grip. He frowned for a moment. "Why is there an R on your shirt?"  
  
Harry paused for a moment, then smiled, "R is for Rascal, Mr. Scornsby." He said with a smile. "Although I prefer to think of it standing for Rebel."  
  
"Very good." Mr. Scornsby lauughed again. "But call me Jim."   
  
"So, Mr. Scornsby." Vernon said cautiously. "What brings you here?"  
  
"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by and take you all out to dinner. And I told you, you can call me Jim."  
  
"What great timing, Jim." Vernon said, in a voice that clearly indicated that he did not like being allowed to say his boss's first name. "We just got back from picking up this troublemaker a new suit."  
  
Harry held out the shrink-wrapped suit. "I can honestly say it's the nicest one I've ever had."  
  
"Well then, I think your uncle's been shortchanging you." He said, then burst out laughing at Vernon's face. "Just kidding, Vern. Lighten up." He punched Uncle Vernon in the arm. "Alright, Harry, hurry up and get that suit on and we'll head out to the Crimson Lance."  
  
Still trying to look carefree, Harry attempted to swagger up the stairs. He felt like an idiot, but he must not've done too bad a job, since nobody said anything. As he entered his room, he closed the door and leaned against it, closing his eyes, and wondering if it were possible for the night to become more complicated.  
  
As if in response to his mental question a familiar voice called out, "Harry!" Harry opened his eyes to find Hemione sitting happily on his bed.  
  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
Please Read and Review! 


	2. Dinner with the Dursleys

Protectus Mibutus. The Disclaimer Spell. This simple spell demonstrates that the  
  
characters here within are property of J. K. Rowling, who is quite possibly the greatest  
  
story teller ever.  
  
Author's note: Couple quick terms. MI5 (Military Intelligence) is a branch of the English  
  
government, the equivalent of the FBI. And the suffix "-san" is the Japanese equivalent  
  
of Mr., Mrs., or Ms.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring  
  
Chapter 2  
  
An Evening with the Dursleys  
  
"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed in a loud whisper. "What are you doing in my  
  
room?!"  
  
"Kingsley thought it would be best if nobody saw me come in." Hermione said  
  
rapidly, her face beaming. "And he let me apparate!" Hermione actually giggled. "Well,  
  
not entirely, but a bit. See, I was asking him all sorts of questions about it, because we're  
  
going to be studying it this year. So he said since I was so keen on it, he'd let me do part  
  
of it. He created the path, but I traveled it by myself, only he was with me, and I'm not  
  
explaining it well, but it was fantastic!"  
  
"Hermione." Harry said calmly. "I mean, what are you doing in here in the first  
  
place."  
  
Hermione's excitement faded into her standard detective glare. "Didn't you get my  
  
letter?"  
  
"No." Harry said looking at Hedwig. "Hedwig hasn't brought anything like that,  
  
and I haven't had any other owls in awhile and-"  
  
"I didn't send it by owl." Hermione said in her you-should-know-better tone. "I  
  
sent it by the muggle mail."  
  
"But why the muggle mail? Owl's are much faster, especially Hedwig."  
  
"Think Harry. After that fiasco at the Ministry, Voldemort must know that I'm  
  
one of your closest friends. Everybody else there was from a wizarding family, so they all  
  
have some level of defense, but my family's a prime target. Can't defend themselves, and  
  
won't make waves in the wizarding world. Kingsley's been watching my house in case  
  
the Death Eaters come looking for me. So far, he's been able to keep them lost, but there  
  
have been a lot of attacks on owls in my area looking for clues. Even the muggles are  
  
noticing. I figured the post would be the last place Voldemort would look."  
  
"But why are you here?"  
  
"Kingsley fought off a Death Eater a block away from my house. Even if they  
  
didn't know they were close, they did after he escaped Kingsley. So he talked with my  
  
parents and we all decided that I should stay with a wizarding friend, and that Mum and  
  
Dad are going to take a nice long vacation. Once the school year starts, they should be  
  
safe."  
  
"What is taking you so bloody long?!" Vernon hissed, sticking his head in. His  
  
face paled upon seeing Hermione. "What is she doing here?"  
  
"She's come to stay for a couple weeks." Harry said angrily, his eyes gleaming.   
  
"Apparently, there was a letter."  
  
"Oh," Vernon said, suddenly flustered. "I may have misplaced that."  
  
"Misplaced it? You mean you destroyed it!" Harry shouted.  
  
"Quiet boy!" Vernon hissed. "Too right, I did. Nothing good has ever come out  
  
of an envelope with your name on it."  
  
"Let me guess. Report card?" Mr. Scornsby laughed, as he came up behind  
  
Vernon. His laugh faded and it finally dawned on Harry how bad having a girl sitting on  
  
his bed looked to somebody who didn't know the situation.  
  
"It's not what it looks like." Vernon stammered, going bright red.  
  
"Oh, of course not." Mr. Scornsby said in a dazed voice. "So, um, what is it  
  
then?"  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Well, since it's not what it looks like, what is it?"  
  
"Ah, good question. You see, well, ah, it's kind of like, um..."  
  
Harry enjoyed watching his uncle struggle, until he saw the resigned look on Mr.  
  
Scornsby's face. Here was a man who thought nothing but good, if rather misinformed,  
  
things about Harry, and he was letting his uncle suffer for his own enjoyment. Not to  
  
mention what he was allowing Mr. Scornsby to think about Hermione and himself. Harry  
  
suddenly felt sick to his stomach.  
  
"She's a foreign exchange student." Harry said loudly, earning him, for the first  
  
time ever, a grateful look from Uncle Vernon.  
  
"Yes!" Vernon exclaimed. "Very foreign. From... Japan!" Vernon immediately  
  
looked appalled at what he just said. "Uh, her parents transferred out there and she grew  
  
up there."  
  
"Really?" Mr. Scornsby said, his smile quickly returning. "Konbanwa," he  
  
bowed, "Anata wa desu ka?"  
  
Harry and Vernon turned to look, with fear and dread, at Hermione, who smiled  
  
and said, in a perfect Japanese accent. "Watakshi wa Hermione Granger desu. Ogenki  
  
deska?"  
  
"Genki desu!" Mr. Scornsby laughed. "I spent a couple years in the Japanese  
  
branch." He explained, mistaking Vernon and Harry's wonderment. "Soaked up the  
  
language. Boy is it hot in here."  
  
"That's because we haven't gotten around to replacing the curtains yet." Harry said  
  
shooting an angry glare at Vernon.  
  
"Redecorating." The large man laughed nervously. "Dudley and I were going to  
  
get the curtains in this evening."  
  
"Well, it's way too hot for a nice girl to wait in here. Tell you what. Why don't  
  
you and Dudley get those curtains up, and I'll take these two desert survivors out for some  
  
ice cream. We'll be back in time for drinks, and then off to the Crimson Lance."  
  
"Oh, great idea... Jim..." Vernon said weakly.  
  
And so it was that Harry found himself on the way to the ice cream parlor for the  
  
first time in his life. The look on Dudley's face would have been enough by itself. Mr.  
  
Scornsby's joyful attitude was reflected in his driving. The three of them zipped down the  
  
streets at speeds that rivaled Harry's Firebolt at top speed. Harry closed his eyes and he  
  
could imagine himself racing through the clouds. Hermione, in the front seat, was  
  
enjoying it less so. Her hand gripped the door handle so hard that her knuckles were  
  
turning white.  
  
Soon, too soon by Hermione's standards, they were at the ice cream parlor. While  
  
Harry and Mr. Scornsby waited in line, Hermione made a dash to the restroom, looking  
  
very green.  
  
"So." Mr. Scornsby said with a devious smile. "How long have you two known  
  
each other?"  
  
"Hermione? We've been friends for years. Ah, she was here once before in my  
  
first year of secondary school." Harry added quickly, remembering the cover story.  
  
"Back again, eh? So are you two..." Mr. Scornsby raised his eyebrows  
  
implacably.  
  
"Oh, no, sir."  
  
"Please, call me Jim. Are you sure? She's quite a looker."  
  
"Yes, sir. I mean Jim. She's an old friend, but nothing more. Truth is, she has  
  
something going with my best friend, Ron."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes, but please don't mention it. I don't think she really knows it yet."  
  
This prompted another boisterous laugh from Jim, which caused everybody to  
  
turn and stare. "Ahh, to be young again."  
  
Hermione came back at that point. Jim gave Harry a twenty pound note and  
  
instructions to buy the largest double chocolate possible, then left the two to find a seat.   
  
Harry was grateful, as it meant he could finally talk to Hermione.  
  
"How did you do that?" He asked in a whisper.  
  
"Do what?" She asked, as she grabbed his arm to steady herself. She still looked a  
  
bit woozy.  
  
"Speak Japanese. I thought our cover was blown for sure."  
  
"I happen to be fluent in Japanese." Hermione said in her  
  
you-should-have-known-but-didn't tone. "Although it's proper name is actually Nihongo.   
  
I also know Spanish, French, German, Russian, and Bill taught me some Sanskrit last  
  
summer, but I only have a two hundred word vocabulary in that so far. It's really  
  
fascinating, though. I'm thinking of studying Egyptian Runes for my focus in N.E.W.T.  
  
level Runes."  
  
"Calm down, Hermione." Harry said, noticing the funny looks from the people in  
  
front of him.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm just so excited. I got eighteen O.W.L.s, all of them Outstandings  
  
except for an E in Runes Theory. Professor Tofty said it's a record. The last one to set  
  
the record was a girl named Rascia over fifteen years ago, and she only got seventeen  
  
O.W.L.s."  
  
"Congratulations." Harry said, still nervous about the attention. Hermione,  
  
though, must've mistook it for embarrassment.  
  
"Not that you didn't do well too. Thirteen O.W.L.S is very impressive. I mean,  
  
Percy only got twelve."  
  
"Well, I thought I'd done better in - wait. You read my mail?!"  
  
"Um, sorry." Hermione said sheepishly, turning a light pink. "I was alone in your  
  
room for over an hour. I didn't want to leave because I was afraid of running into your  
  
relatives before I talked with you. So I waited, and I saw the O.W.L. cards and I had a  
  
peek. Nothing more, I promise."  
  
By now, they were at the front of the line, so Harry decided to let the topic go and  
  
bought three large chocolates. He paid for the order and they made their way back to the  
  
table that Jim was at.  
  
"So, does Ron know you're back in England?" Jim asked, as he took the tray from  
  
Harry.  
  
"You know about Ron?" Hermione asked, slipping back into a Japanese accent.   
  
She shot Harry a quizzical look.  
  
"He came up in conversation." Jim laughed. "Harry says you three are real close."  
  
He winked casually at Harry. "So what's he up to?"  
  
Hermione stared despondently at her ice cream. "I don't know." She sighed. "I  
  
haven't heard from him all summer."  
  
Harry, who had just put a large spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, quickly  
  
swallowed, and immediately regretted it. "I have." He choked through his now frozen  
  
throat. "He wrote me a couple weeks ago. He said he was staying with Bill and Charlie,  
  
his brothers, Mr. Sco- I mean, Jim. They're rooming together in Africa now. He wrote  
  
you a letter but was afraid it wouldn't make it with all the... extra security." Harry shared a  
  
glance with Hermione, hoping she'd understand the hint. She looked like she did. "But  
  
they'll be back soon and we'll be joining him at his house in a couple weeks for the rest of  
  
the holidays."  
  
Hermione perked up at that, but then looked curious. "Are all the Weasleys  
  
there?"  
  
"No. Mr. Weasley's... on a business trip and Mrs. Weasley took Ginny to visit a  
  
sick uncle in America. The twins are working hard at their new shop. Ron's visiting Bill  
  
and Charlie to do some research for possible careers."  
  
"Oh, and what do they do?" Jim asked.  
  
"Well, Charlie works with... dangerous animals." Harry said, choosing his words  
  
carefully. "And Bill's... kind of a debt collector for the bank."  
  
"So what are you two aiming for?"  
  
"Well, I'm hoping to become an..." Harry thought briefly for a muggle equivalent  
  
to an Auror. "...an MI5 agent."  
  
"Now that's ambition!" Jim laughed enthusiastically. "How about you,  
  
Hermione?"  
  
Hermione chewed her lip for a moment before speaking. "Well, I haven't really  
  
decided yet. I mean, there are so many fascinating choices, so I read up on them, and now  
  
I want to do them all even more, and I still can't decide which, even though Professor  
  
McGonagall said-"  
  
"Calm down, girl." Jim said reassuringly. "You've got, what, two more years to  
  
decide, right?"  
  
"Actually, sir, Hogwarts is different from most schools." Harry explained. "In our  
  
last two years, we're supposed to take specific classes to help us qualify for the job we  
  
want. But Hermione, you were planning on continuing all your classes anyway."  
  
"Yes, but there are focuses, and special research, and lots of other things to decide  
  
based on what job you want."  
  
"I've never heard of this Hogwarts." Jim said curiously. "What kind of school is  
  
it?"  
  
Harry and Hermione exchanged nervous glances. Had he said the name of the  
  
school? How could he be so stupid?!  
  
"It's a private school." Hermione said matter-of-factly. "For gifted children. Very  
  
selective."  
  
"Well, you must like the school, or you wouldn't have come beck, eh? What do  
  
you think of it Harry?"  
  
"Oh, it's great, Mr. - uh, Jim." Harry said enthusiastically. "Great teachers and  
  
classes. I've learned about things I never knew existed before I got there."  
  
"How's the atmosphere?"  
  
"Atmosphere?" Harry blinked.  
  
"You know, how friendly is it?"  
  
"Oh, it's very friendly." Harry said, and he explained about the houses, and Hagrid  
  
and Dumbledore, and even McGonagall. Of course, he avoided any real details,  
  
especially about Hagrid.  
  
"Sounds fascinating." Jim smiled. "I'll have to look into it."  
  
Harry and Hermione shared another nervous glance. "What for?" Harry gulped.  
  
"Well, I have a daughter, Summer. She's about to start secondary school. Right  
  
now she's lined up for Smeltings, but... it just seems too cold. I'm afraid they'll smother  
  
her spirit. I've been looking into other schools, but I haven't found anything that  
  
satisfying. But the way you describe Hogwarts, it sounds like a nurturing, but serious  
  
school, which is what I think she needs."  
  
"It's not that great." Harry said lamely, feeling extremely guilty. "Besides, it's um,  
  
very selective."  
  
"Couldn't hurt to check it out, though."  
  
"It's more complicated than that." Hermione added. "They only take students that  
  
they've personally selected from school rosters. You can't apply. In fact, you'd have  
  
problems even talking to a representative. I'm sorry, Scornsby-san, but if they don't find  
  
you, you won't find them."  
  
"Oh." Jim sighed. "Well, I guess I was getting ahead of myself anyway. C'mon.   
  
we'd better head back."  
  
"You really sold him." Hermione whispered as they left. "If you don't make it as  
  
an 'MI5 agent,' you could always go into advertising."  
  
"Shut up." Harry snapped sullenly.  
  
But Mr. Scornsby's spirits proved more resilient than that. No sooner were they in  
  
the car than he was telling Harry, and a rather queasy Hermione, about some jokes he had  
  
played on Vernon in the past.  
  
"I'm telling you, the man has no sense of humor." He laughed as he barely  
  
managed a tight corner. "Good man though. I don't mind telling you, he sure stumped  
  
me. I have a gift. I'm an excellent judge of character, and my gut feelings are never  
  
wrong. Except with your uncle, Harry. When I first met him, I had him pegged as one of  
  
those elitists, who think their own world is perfect and better than anyone else's. Then I  
  
found out about you and, well, let's just say I was happily proven wrong. I guess it shows  
  
that nothing is fool proof."  
  
Harry decided that he didn't have the heart to tell him the truth. Hermione,  
  
actually managed to find her voice, although she looked all the greener for it.  
  
"You called it a gift?" She asked in a weak voice.  
  
"Yeah, I can't really explain it any better than that. It's a gut feeling, an impulse.   
  
I'd almost call it magic. I see a guy, and I just know what kind of person he is. Like you  
  
for example. I didn't need Harry to tell me that you're as smart as a button. As for you,  
  
Harry." He said turning around to look at Harry, which caused Hermione to shriek about  
  
keeping his eyes on the road. "I knew, when I saw you, that your Uncle isn't quite fair  
  
with you. You're a better kid than he thinks, and I'm betting more often than not, the  
  
trouble you get into is for the good of others. Am I right?"  
  
"Yes, sir. You could say that."  
  
"Speaking of trouble, where'd you get that shiner?"  
  
"Uh, bully." Harry said with a weak laugh. "Walked in on the wrong place at the  
  
wrong time. But I managed to teach him a lesson."  
  
"Eh, see! That's what I meant. Always for the greater good, eh Harry?"  
  
"Yes, sir. For the greater good." Harry said weakly, thinking about how far  
  
fighting for the greater good was likely to take him. He didn't have much time to dwell  
  
on it, because they soon arrived at Number Four Privet Drive.  
  
Drinks with the Dursley's proved only mildly annoying, and much easier  
  
conversation than before. Vernon broke out brandy for himself and Jim, while Petunia  
  
had wine. Hermione and the boys had tea. Harry and Dudley spent most of the time  
  
making up stories to tell Jim, who wanted to hear about all the "crazy adventures they  
  
must have had." So they took turns, one upping each other and their stories got so  
  
ridiculous, that Harry was sure Jim didn't believe them, although he acted like he did.   
  
Harry, of course, blew Dudley out of the water with creativity, and tried to make him look  
  
bad as much as possible without seeming malevolent. Harry might have actually enjoyed  
  
it, if Dudley wasn't kicking him under the table.  
  
It wasn't until they were getting ready to leave when they heard a knock on the  
  
door. Vernon told Dudley to get it. Dudley, still mad about actually having to do some  
  
work that afternoon, stomped over to the door like an overweight elephant.  
  
"What do you wa- AAAGGGHH!" Dudley screamed as he fell over backwards.   
  
Harry and Hermione both jumped to their feet, knocking over their chairs, Harry fumbling  
  
for his wand in his oversized sleeves.  
  
"Don't get up on my account." A familiar, gruff voice said, causing Harry to look  
  
up. There, in the doorway, in bright contrast to everything that made Privet Drive what it  
  
was, stood Mad-eye Moody. He was obviously trying to pass for a muggle, for he wore  
  
sandals, pastel blue bellbottoms, with dark purple suspenders over a rainbow plaid dress  
  
shirt with a red bow tie with bright orange polka dots, topped off with a frayed old trench  
  
coat that was patched up with leather in no less than twenty places. He wore the bowler  
  
hat, pulled down over his magic eye, like he had at the train station. He also had a  
  
hickory walking stick tucked under one arm.  
  
Dudley stayed motionless on the floor, paralyzed with fear. Vernon looked like he  
  
was in shock. Petunia seemed more worried that he'd come in and get her carpets dirty.  
  
Realizing that he had to act before anybody got their voice back, Harry shouted,  
  
"Uncle Moody!"  
  
Moody turned to stare at Harry, his walking stick swinging so it pointed more or  
  
less at Him. Harry felt a pinprick in his forehead, then felt a presence that felt like a wave  
  
of water rushing at him. He tried to hold strong and force the presence out.  
  
*Stop struggling, Potter!* A voice snapped. Harry recognized it as Moody, even  
  
though it sounded nothing like him. The voice was calm and cold, as if stating facts and  
  
daring you to say otherwise. Harry realized this must be how Moody hears himself.  
  
*Sorry, sir.* Harry thought back.  
  
*What's going on, Potter?*   
  
*Mr. Scornsby can't know anything.* Harry thought back.  
  
*On that, I agree.*  
  
*Please play along.* Harry thought desperately.  
  
Moody grunted his displeasure, but said aloud, "Was in the neighborhood, thought  
  
I'd check on my grandnephew. Harry, can I talk to you and your friend in the kitchen?"  
  
Harry and Hermione fell in behind the battered old auror, who ignored Petunia's  
  
baneful glare and marched into the kitchen. The moment they were in, he slammed the  
  
door, and tapped it with his cane. Then he spun around and fixed both eyes on Harry.  
  
"Explain, Potter." He snapped. Harry quickly retold the events of the day, leaving  
  
out things he felt Moody would think trivial, such as Dudley hitting him, or the gifts.   
  
Moody just nodded as Harry went on, although he did call Vernon a "dunderheaded old  
  
walrus!" when Hermione's letter came up.  
  
After Harry finished, Moody remained silent, his eye studying something behind  
  
him. Finally he spoke.  
  
"Tell me," he said in a calm voice, "is Mr. Scornsby an accomplished wizard?"  
  
"No, he's muggle, sir."  
  
Then why did you lave the house with him?!" Moody roared.  
  
"But I was told nobody who wanted to harm me could enter the house."  
  
"Yes, but that doesn't make you safe! Just because he didn't want to harm you  
  
doesn't mean somebody couldn't attack you. And Mr. Scornsby wouldn't be able to do a  
  
damn fool thing!"  
  
I'm sorry, professor. I wasn't thinking and-"  
  
"Obviously. And don't call me professor. Now, you two are not to leave the  
  
house again!"  
  
"But I have to. Mr. Scornsby is taking us to dinner. Uncle Vernon needs to make  
  
a good impression."  
  
"I would think your own life, not to mention the fate of the world, would matter  
  
more to you than your uncle's foolish job!"  
  
Harry wished he wouldn't mention it. He was tired of being the last hope for  
  
mankind. He wished he could be just an ordinary kid with a loving family, who's biggest  
  
worry was girls, which was quite enough for him all together. He'd even be willing to  
  
give up all of Hogwarts and wizardry for that. Well, maybe not, but almost.  
  
"But you don't understand." Harry pleaded, forcing his mind back to the problem  
  
at hand. "Last time I blew a promotion, Uncle Vernon tried to stop me from going back  
  
to Hogwarts. If I do it again, he might kick me out together!" As he said it, a part of  
  
Harry wished it would happen. If it did, he'd probably get sent to an Order of the Phoenix  
  
house like last year, and get to help out, and possibly get some information on what's  
  
going on. While he understood the need for silence much more this year, it still annoyed  
  
him.  
  
But Moody didn't appear to like that idea. "Mmmm..." he muttered, scratching his  
  
chin. "Haven't found a good safe house since we lost House Black. Order members are  
  
at risk enough as it is."  
  
"Order members are in danger?" Hermione asked worriedly.  
  
"'Course they are." Moody grunted. "Everybody's always in danger. You'd do  
  
well to remember that. No matter who you are, there's always someone who wants what  
  
you have. And if you don't have anything there are still those who just want your life.   
  
Your only safety is CONSTANT VIGILANCE! But order members are in particular  
  
danger. Sure, it's a lot easier to move around these days, what with the ministry finally  
  
backing us, but more members mean more spies. We've got at least two in our ranks.   
  
Plus with that fool, Fudge's official statement saying Voldemort is back, more people are  
  
willing to help the Death Eaters. Dark times, Harry. It's best you stay here, at least until  
  
the Weasley's are back. We'll humor that zoo of a family of yours, but precautions must  
  
be taken."  
  
Harry remembered, what felt like a lifetime ago, when he first met Hagrid, Hagrid  
  
had referred to Voldemort's war for power as "dark times" as well. "Dark days, Harry."  
  
Hagrid had said, "Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards  
  
or witches..." Harry couldn't quite accept the fact that there was a good number of people  
  
out there who were willing to help Voldemort with his dark mission, but obviously, that  
  
was the case. Moody, for all his eccentricities, was right.  
  
"Um, what kind of precautions?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.  
  
"I'm coming with you."  
  
So, after much arguing from Mr. Dursley, although much of the arguing was very  
  
timid, and the phrase "Mimble wimble" came up again, Harry found himself once again  
  
in Mr. Scornsby's car, only this time, Hermione was in the back seat with him and Moody  
  
was in the front seat. He liked the way Mr. Scornsby drove even less than Hermione, and  
  
was much louder about it too.  
  
"Slow down! There's no need to go this fast! Nobody's chasing us yet! Watch it!   
  
You nearly hit that guy! There's no way your going to make that tuuuuurn! Are you  
  
insane! You're going to get us all killed! Doesn't that red glowing thing mean stop?   
  
Because you just drove right under one, that's why!! Okay, that sign definitely said stop!   
  
I will calm down when you command this thing to travel at a safe speed. Don't look at  
  
me! Look at the road! Constant vigilance! CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!!!"  
  
They arrived at the Crimson Lance in record time, Moody insisting Harry come  
  
with him to the restroom, where he was promptly sick and then attacked the automatic  
  
hand dryer.  
  
By the time they emerged, the Dursleys had arrived and were being greeted by the  
  
Maitre D. He frowned at Moody's appearance, but said nothing. Harry had explained  
  
away Moody's odd clothes and behavior by claiming he was a shell-shocked veteran.   
  
Moody willingly took up the part.  
  
They were soon seated. Harry sat at one end of the table with (at Moody's  
  
insistence) Moody and Hermione sitting to either side. Mr. Scornsby sat next to Moody  
  
and Vernon sat next to him. Petunia sat across from Vernon, and Dudley sat between her  
  
and Hermione, so he could stare at Jim in admiration. Dudley, however, was more  
  
interested in staring at Hermione. Apparently, whatever views he had on witches didn't  
  
apply if they were good looking. He smiled lecherously at Hermione, and Harry wasn't  
  
sure who was more revolted: Hermione or Aunt Petunia.  
  
Harry allowed himself a quick glance and realized that Hermione wasn't just good  
  
looking; she was beautiful! Either the school uniforms hid more than he thought or she  
  
had really filled out over the summer. But she was quite alluring now, in tight denim  
  
shorts and a white T-shirt (which had "SMILE!!" written across it in red letters) which  
  
would have been modest if the hot day hadn't made it clingy with sweat. Her hair, as  
  
bushy as ever, was longer now, and fell forward to frame her face, which was notably  
  
clearer in complexion, and softer-looking too.  
  
Surprising himself, the first thought that entered his head was *Lucky Ron.* In  
  
truth, he was happy for Ron. It was nice, seeing his two best friends become something  
  
more to each other, even if it was very slowly, even if they drove him crazy with their  
  
bickering, even if they barely had a clue how they felt and absolutely no clue how the  
  
other felt. And he doubted he would ever think of Hermione as anything but a friend,  
  
even if Ron wasn't in the picture. But deep inside of him, a part of him resented Ron for  
  
doing absolutely nothing and having a wonderful girl fall in his lap, while he worked and  
  
stressed and sweated over Cho for two years and walked away with nothing. And Ron  
  
didn't even know what he had!  
  
Needless to say, it was a part of himself he tried to forget about.  
  
Meanwhile, the rest of the table was oblivious to Harry's inner turmoil.   
  
Hermione, who was normally pretty good at detecting Harry's moodswings, was too busy  
  
warding off Dudley's unwanted advances. Petunia, who was as white as Nearly Headless  
  
Nick, was trying to remind Dudley of "that nice girl Annie you met at your birthday  
  
party." (Harry remembered Annie, a pretty but dim-witted girl, a very wealthy iron  
  
tycoon's daughter, who was convinced Harry was a live in servant, not to mention  
  
partially deaf.) Across the table, Vernon was trying to tell Jim about a big sale he once  
  
made, but Jim was more interested in trying to get war stories from Moody. Moody  
  
found the attention unsettling and tried to dismiss him, glancing nervously around the  
  
crowded room.  
  
A waiter came and after staring disapprovingly at Hermione and Moody's attire,  
  
took their orders. Jim ordered for all of them. By the time the soup arrived, Him had  
  
given up on getting a war story, and was reluctantly talking business with Vernon.   
  
Meanwhile, Moody talked in hushed tones to Harry.  
  
"You want to be an auror, eh?" He smiled sinisterly. "Well, let's test your  
  
instincts. No, now looking around. This is a memory test. How many exits are there."  
  
Harry thought hard, staring deliberately at Moody's hat, so his eyes wouldn't  
  
wander. "Well, there's the way we came in... There has to be a back door through the  
  
kitchen... I think I saw a staircase that might lead to the roof. And... I'm pretty sure there  
  
was a window in the lavatory."  
  
"Very good, Potter. But next time, either know the window is there, or don't!   
  
Now, let's go to profiling. Anybody here could be a dark wizard. The question is, who  
  
should we be watching? Who is most suspicious?"  
  
Harry looked around. Only five other tables were taken. Right behind him was a  
  
young couple with a five year old boy. At the closest table behind Hermione was what  
  
Harry guessed was business meeting; two Dursley-ish men talking earnestly with two  
  
bored looking women beside them. Further away, behind Moody, an oily looking man  
  
was pouring wine for an attractive woman in a fancy green dress. Across the room, in the  
  
corner to Harry's left, was a family of five; a mother, a father, two boys, about six and  
  
twelve, and a fourteen year old girl. Finally, there was an elderly couple sitting near the  
  
kitchen doors. None of them looked like dark wizards.  
  
"I don't think any of them look suspicious." He said bluntly.  
  
"Think again, Potter." Moody grunted. "Now, let's start with the staff."  
  
I doubt any of them are dark agents." Harry said skeptically.  
  
"True, but do you know why?"  
  
*Common sense.* Harry thought, but kept quiet. Instead, he tried thinking like  
  
Moody. "Because... they wouldn't have enough time to get someone hired. And a  
  
polyjuice potion would be too complicated to use so quickly, assuming they even had  
  
some ready, which isn't likely."  
  
"Good, Potter. You're thinking. But you forgot about sleeper agents or a Imperius  
  
curse. A sleeper agent is unlikely, since we're far from any wizarding circles. And most  
  
dark wizards consider a muggle's ways of killing too crude and risky to use them. So we  
  
can assume the staff is more or less safe, though we should keep an eye on them anyway.  
  
"But what about the customers? How about the family over there?"  
  
"They don't seem very likely."  
  
"How about the old couple?"  
  
"Even less likely." Harry sighed, exasperated by Moody's questions.  
  
"Wrong." Moody said gruffly. "Much more likely. They're far away, so we're less  
  
likely to notice them. And why are they sitting so close to the kitchen, eh? It's not  
  
exactly a choice location."  
  
"Maybe it's their anniversary and they sat there when he proposed?" Harry guessed  
  
wildly.  
  
"Possibly." Moody grunted. "Or maybe it's because it gives them a quick exit, and  
  
hostages to boot.  
  
"Now the family is safe. First of all, they're in the corner and dark wizards never  
  
sit in the corner, because that's the first place you look for them. More importantly is all  
  
the children. One child would give as good a cover as three, and when it comes time to  
  
fight, those extra children will get in the way. Even the girl is more likely to get in the  
  
way then help. Not old enough to know how to fight properly."  
  
Harry looked over at the table. The girl wasn't much younger then him, and he  
  
could do plenty. H was about to tell Moody that, when she noticed him and waved,  
  
timidly. Harry waved back. She was pretty good looking too.  
  
"Ahh, that clinches it." Moody grumbled. "If she was a dark wizard, she wouldn't  
  
have drawn attention to herself. Unless she was leading you into a trap. Be careful if she  
  
makes any more contact."  
  
"Okay, now you're being para-"  
  
"But the bigger danger is in the closer tables. Easier to notice, but much less  
  
reaction time when they do attack. What's your assessment of the business couples?"  
  
Harry was starting to get the hang of this, even if he didn't believe any of them  
  
were dark wizards. "Well... the women could be assessing the room and just pretending  
  
to be bored. And the men could be discussing the best way to attack, possibly in code."  
  
"You're getting better. But my galleon is on that table."  
  
"The single mother and her date?!" Harry whispered harshly.  
  
"Don't be deceived, Harry. Notice how she keeps trying to quiet the kid and the  
  
'date' is just ignoring him."  
  
"Maybe she's just strict and he doesn't want to interfere with her childraising."  
  
"Or else she's trying to keep the boy quiet so he can listen."  
  
Harry still found it unlikely. His eyes roamed the room and fell on the final table,  
  
with the oily man and the attractive woman.  
  
"Moody? What about them?"  
  
"Huh? Unlikely. Their position is terrible. Not far enough to avoid notice, not  
  
close enough for a good ambush. Plus they're drinking alcohol, which impairs the senses  
  
and slows the mind. There's a final reason, if you can find it."  
  
Harry glanced at the table, where a waiter was serving them their main course.   
  
Harry's own table was at least ten minutes from being served.  
  
"They got here before us." Harry finally said.  
  
"Very good. The test is over. You did all right, but you have a long way to go.   
  
Now, while still watching the tables, lets pay attention to our host before he gets  
  
suspicious.  
  
And Moody turned to listen to Jim tell a story about a time he went hang gliding  
  
and swore he nearly crashed into an oddly dressed boy who was sky-diving with a broom  
  
of all things. Harry felt the story sounded vaguely familiar. He also noticed that Moody's  
  
magic eye, which he could barely see under his hat, never left the single mom, except to  
  
make periodic sweeps every other minute.  
  
It was after the main course had been served that Harry figured out why the couple  
  
behind Moody bothered him. Hoping to help Dudley lose some weight, Him had ordered  
  
him a light vegetarian dish. Harry was loving the forlorned look on Dudley's face as the  
  
fat boy stared longingly at Harry's half-pound burger, but his eyes kept flicking to the oily  
  
man and his date. They were staring, but then again, Moody's vibrant costume was  
  
causing everybody to stare. As Harry pushed away the second half of his burger, feeling  
  
he was about to burst, his eyes locked with the woman's and he realized that they weren't  
  
watching Moody; they were watching him!  
  
He was about to tell Moody this, when Moody grabbed the waiter's arm and  
  
whispered something to him, gesturing at the table behind Harry. The waiter smiled and  
  
nodded, then signaled to the other waiters.  
  
Suddenly the room exploded with noise as the waiters sung Happy Birthday, very  
  
badly, to the kid behind Harry. The kid squealed happily and started banging his plate,  
  
demanding cake. The mother started furiously yelling at the waiters, and the date smiled  
  
weakly, while trying to calm her down. Moody smiled at his handiwork, but Harry did  
  
not. Behind Moody, the woman in the green dress was anxiously pulling something out  
  
of her purse. It was a wand!  
  
Desperate to get Moody's attention without alerting the witch, Harry kicked  
  
Moody in the shin. A loud clunk and a sharp pain told Harry he'd kicked the wooden one.   
  
But it was enough. Moody's eye made a reactionary three-sixty degree scan, then swung  
  
back to look at the couple.  
  
Meanwhile, the single mother had identified Moody as the source of this, and was  
  
leveling her anger at him. "Sir, if this is your idea of a joke-"  
  
"Madam, I do not joke about the safety of my country." Moody snapped, standing  
  
up and gesturing wildly with his cane. "Now get to the designated drop point before the  
  
enemy forces make a move!"   
  
"He's gone into shell shock!" Jim exclaimed, and only then did Harry realize how  
  
well Moody was orchestrating the chaos around him. He also realized that the random  
  
cane gestures weren't random at all; they were wand motions.  
  
"Call Captain Exelliarmus!" He roared. A near-invisible bolt shot out of the cane  
  
and struck the woman square in the chest. Her wand flew high into the air, while she  
  
stumbled backwards, knocking over her chair, which hit the floor with a loud crack.   
  
"Enemy fire! You hold the fort! I'll evacuate the villagers!" Moody tucked his cane  
  
under his arm, grabbed Hermione and Harry by the collars, and pulled them towards the  
  
exit. Hermione shrieked in surprise, but Harry let himself be dragged out, feigning shock.   
  
He saw the oily man reach into his jacket so Harry kicked out at the man's chair, tripping  
  
him up. A loud crunch, told Harry that Moody had just stepped on the woman's wand.  
  
Moody didn't let go of them until they were out of the restaurant and he had to  
  
catch his breath.  
  
"What is going on?!" Hermione demanded in a huff.  
  
"Dark wizards!" Harry explained. "Moody stopped them"  
  
"Is that way you told the waiters it was the kid's birthday?" Hermione asked in  
  
disbelief.  
  
"Standard... tactic." Moody gasped. "Draw attention... to the dark wizards.   
  
Makes it too risky for them to act."  
  
"Brilliant thinking." Harry exclaimed excitedly.  
  
"Too bad I got the wrong target." Moody grumbled, obviously displeased with  
  
himself. "I'm getting too old for this. But the REAL dark wizards won't come after us  
  
now. They're down to one wand, and we're alert. The odds are too stacked against them."  
  
"Could someone please explain what just happened?" Hermione asked  
  
impatiently. Harry quickly filled her in. When she had heard it all, she looked confused.  
  
"But how could they have been after you, if they were here first. Nobody said  
  
anything about where we were going except in your house, where they can't hear us.  
  
"Coincidence?" Harry guessed. "They were in the right place at the right time."  
  
"I don't believe in coincidence." Moody huffed. "Divinations is behind this."  
  
"Divinations?" Hermione asked, the skepticism coming back into her voice.  
  
"Yeah, I know. Load of dirty dishwater most of the time, but occasionally you can  
  
squeeze something of value out of it. Like a time and a place."  
  
Harry wanted to ask more, but just then, Vernon burst out of the restaurant,  
  
looking once again like an enraged rhino. At least this time his mustache remained in  
  
tact.  
  
"You senile old badger!" he snarled. "You ruined everything!"  
  
"Bah!" Moody snorted, brandishing his cane, which Harry figured held his wand  
  
inside. "In my day we respected our elders." But Vernon's rage overpowered his  
  
self-preservation.  
  
"Silence! I want you out of my sight. And take the boy and his tramp of a friend  
  
with you!"  
  
Harry had no idea what he would do now, without the protection cast over  
  
Number Four, Privet Drive. He also didn't know what Moody would do to Vernon, but  
  
he bet it would be equally unpleasant.  
  
Fortunately, for both Harry and Vernon, Jim emerged from the restaurant at that  
  
moment, a huge smile on his face.  
  
"Oh, what a show!" He bellowed in his typical laughing voice. "Best dinner I've  
  
ever had. Here you go Harry. Caught Dudley trying to steal your leftovers. Eat up, you  
  
need to put some meat on those bones."  
  
"B-b-b-ut the manager had Grunnings blacklisted!" Vernon stammered,  
  
completely confounded by his boss's behavior.  
  
"Relax, Vern. Once he realizes how many Grunnings meetings are held here, he'll  
  
be offering us ten percent off to come back. I must say though, if you can manage this  
  
motley crew, you can manage anything. I can't promise anything official, but off the  
  
record, the position is definitely yours."  
  
"R-r-r-eally?" Vernon said, going pale.  
  
"Like I said, nothing official, but yeah. Now, I've got to get back to Summer.   
  
Drive safe."  
  
"Like you can talk." Moody muttered as the jolly man walked away. He turned to  
  
the Dursleys. "Well, looks like somebody kept their end of the bargain. Now, what did  
  
you promise the boy? Don't look at me like that, Potter. I can read the deal you made on  
  
both your faces.  
  
"You're right." Vernon said stiffly. "A deal is a deal. I'll buy you your game  
  
system tomorrow."  
  
"No. Potter's not going out again for a long time. Tonight was dangerous enough.   
  
We're picking it up on the way home."  
  
Vernon opened his mouth to argue, but Moody lifted his bowler hat to stare at him  
  
with his magic eye, and Vernon agreed.  
  
When they got back, Moody marched Harry double-time into the house, Harry's  
  
new things held under his arm. He had a Playstation 2, and two games, called Monster  
  
Rancher 3 and Soul Caliber 2. Harry didn't really know anything about either game, but  
  
Vernon didn't give him much time. Of course, Dudley had walked away with four more  
  
games, but Harry didn't care. He didn't care much about the games he had either. The  
  
important part was, he had finally managed to force the Dursleys to get him something  
  
new.  
  
Just as Vernon was closing the door, an owl swooped in, dropping a letter on  
  
Moody's head. Moody clawed it open and read it hungrily.  
  
"I have to go!" He said urgently.  
  
"What? Where?" Harry asked worriedly.  
  
"No time to explain." Moody grumbled. "Just stay here. Don't leave your room  
  
for anything! You're vulnerable! I'll send Smirl for you. Don't get the door and don't talk  
  
to anybody who doesn't tell you the password 'dragonskin leather.' And take this!" He  
  
thrust a package under Harry's arm. "Now go!"  
  
Harry watched Moody hobble quickly off down the walk. The moment he  
  
touched the street, he disappeared with a crack. He disapparated.  
  
Upstairs, Harry unwrapped the package. It was a Foe Glass. He hung it on the  
  
wall in his room.  
  
Sleeping arrangements were strained. Hermione was in Harry's room and Harry  
  
was too big for the cupboard now, so finally Vernon agreed that he'd sleep on Dudley's  
  
floor. It wouldn't have been too bad, if Dudley didn't keep kicking him as he got out of  
  
bed for a glass of water. Eventually, Dudley grew tired of the joke, and fell asleep. Harry  
  
drifted off soon after, wishing he hadn't left the settle-mint in the other room.  
  
Harry found himself in a gray hall with many doors. Behind him everything was  
  
clear, but everything in front of him was blurry and undefined. He squinted. There was  
  
something down there. Something defined and white on the gray blurry path. It turned,  
  
and red eyes spotted him. A loud, evil hiss filled the air. It charged.  
  
Harry gasped as it's form became clear; a giant, hideous beetle, it's carapace pure  
  
white, it's eyes the color of dried blood. Harry turned to run. The hallway seemed  
  
familiar, but there were no turns, no places to hide. He could hear the bug creature  
  
getting closer. He tried to push himself to run faster, but he couldn't. He could feel the  
  
bug's icy pinchers about to close on him.  
  
Suddenly, with the sound of metal slicing through the air, the bug was gone.   
  
Harry turned to see a large man standing behind him. He was dressed in a red tunic with  
  
metal armbands around his muscular arms. Each arm band was three pieces, forearm,  
  
upper arm, and shoulder, and each piece was a different color. His long silver hair and  
  
beard both flowed widely, about his chiseled features, as if in a fierce wind.  
  
"You must keep your guard up, Harry. The Creelin will get you if you don't. And  
  
there are things you must do."  
  
"What must I do?" Harry asked, curious more than anything.  
  
"You must seek out my legacy." He said sternly.  
  
"Your legacy?"  
  
"Ask the ha-" All of a sudden the man was gone. The gray walls and familiar  
  
doors were gone.  
  
Eight glasses of water had caught up with Dudley. He had kicked Harry awake as  
  
he raced for the bathroom.  
  
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Please read and review 


	3. Good News and Bad News

Protectus Mibutus. The Disclaimer Spell. This simple spell demonstrates that the characters here within are property of J. K. Rowling, who is quite possibly the greatest story teller ever.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Good News and Bad News  
  
Harry's night did not improve. His stomach ached from Dudley's cruel joke, and he slept fitfully, haunted by fragments of the dream. He tried to convince himself that it was just that, a dream, but the images of the viscious bug and the grim knight were not so easily dismissed.  
  
Dawn came slow for Harry, and it brought him little sleep, and less answers.  
  
Vaguely, Harry raelized he heard running water. Since Dudley was still in bed, and Vernon and Petunia had their own shower, Harry knew it must be Hermione.  
  
Harry's stomach was still aching and he thought longingly of the settle-mint resting in the drawer in his room. He could probably get it before Hermione came back.  
  
So, feeling guilty for reasons he couldn't explain, Harry slipped down the hall and into his room. He opened the drawer in the nigh stand, moved aside the plush dragon and the box which held the bracer, and triumphantly took out the settle-mint. One quick drop and he felt much better.  
  
Until he heard the scream.  
  
He was just putting away the bottle when he heard it. It was Hermione and it was loud and long. Harry jumped to his feet, managed to free his wand without getting it tangled in his sleeve this time, and bolted out the door.  
  
Harry froze at what he saw. Hermione, clad only in a towel and bright red from embarassement and anger, was yelling at Dudley, who was eyeing her lecharously.  
  
"How dare you!" Hermione seeted. "If I cath you trying to look at- Eyes up here, pig boy! If I ever catch you even THINKING about looking at me, I'll turn you into a toad!"  
  
"You're not allowed to do magic out of school." Dudley leered.  
  
"I'll have you know, as a Junior Member of the Order of the Phoenix, I am allowed to practice combative magic as allowed by Educational Decree 29."  
  
"You're bluffing." Dudley said, though he paled notably. Hermione spotted Harry, and marched over to him. She took his wand from his upraised, shock-frozen hand, aspun around and gave it a twirl and a flick.  
  
"Cykronus!"  
  
Dudley's eyes went wide as he egan to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Soon he was just a fat blur. Shortly after, Hermione brought the wand across in a cutting motion.  
  
"Finite Incantatem."  
  
Dudley came to a halt. He took two staggering steps, then fell flat on his face.  
  
Hermione eyed Dudley's prone body like it was a giant slug. "He'll probably be out for at least twenty minutes, but could you guard the door while I change? Just in case?"  
  
Still rather stunned, Harry managed to nod. Hermione blushed, then quickly fled into Harry's room. Harry shook his head to get his senses back, resisted the urge to kick Dudley in the stomach, and leaned against the door.  
  
*Ron will kill me if he ever finds out about this.* Harry thought chuckling. *And the fool won't even know why.* Another part of him added bitterly. Harry frowned and shook his head. To stop that train of thought he focused on what just happened.  
  
Why? Why did he always blow little things out of proportions? And yet, when the real attack came, he was almost completely unready for it. If he wanted any chance of taking Voldemort down with him, he had to calm down and be more alert.  
  
Harry demonstrated this new resolve of awareness by failing to hear Hermione call out that she was ready, and then crashing onto his back when she opened the door he was leaning on.  
  
"Harry, are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry said sheepishly. He glanced back at the hall. "I doubt Dudley will tell on us. They might ask him what he was doing to make you attack him. But we should probably get breakfast before something else goes wrong.  
  
Hermione agreed, so the two made their way downstairs. The house was unusually quiet. Vernon was already at work, and Petunia had gone off somewhere, leaving a note to Dudley saying she'd be back shortly and that he should dress sharply.  
  
Not knowing when Petunia or Dudley would show up, they had a quick breakfast of toast and cereal, although Harry did treat himself to Dudley's expensive sugary cereal, instead of the cheap styrofoam stuff they bought for him.  
  
While they ate, Harry's mind processed what had happened just moments before. One part troubled him.  
  
"Hermione." He asked between bites of toast. "Is it true, what you told Dudley?"  
  
"Don't be silly, Harry." Hermione said as she poured a glass of orange juice. "We haven't learned how to transfigure people yet. That's a NEWT level class."  
  
"I meant about being a junior member and being able to cast spells."  
  
"Yeah, finally." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I mean, they passed the decree ages ago, but apparently there's a ton of checks before the ministry will officially recognize anybody. Mr. Kingsley just gave me my notification last Thursday. I'm sure you got yours... weeks... ago..." She trailed off as she noticed Harry's clenched teeth. "You didn't get a notice?"   
  
"Of course not!" Harry yelled, throwing down his toast. "Since when am I important? I'm just the one who stopped Voldemort in the first place, delayed his return TWICE, and am destined to stop him once and for all. Clearly, Dumbledore can get on fine without me. After all, he has you!"  
  
"Enough, Harry!" Hermione snapped. "I didn't ask to become a junior member, and I certainly ask for you not to be. So stop treating me like your enemy!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione." Harry apologized. "It's just that Dumbledore..."  
  
"Knows what he's doing, Harry." Hermione finished. "Trust him."  
  
Harry was about to admit that Hermione was right, when the front door opened and Aunt Petunia called out, "Dudikins! Look who's come to visit!"  
  
Harry groaned. It was Annie. Harry's first thought was to bolt out the back and hide in the yard all day, but then he remembered Moody's instructions not to leave the house. Normally, Harry would've taken any warning from Moody with a grain of salt, but after last night, he wasn't about to risk it. Annie may be a pain, but she was better than dark wizards any day.  
  
Harry was still trying to think of a way past her, when she spotted him.  
  
"HELLO HARRY! HOW ARE YOU TODAY?!" She shouted, loud and slow, as if Harry was not only near deaf, but also struggling with English, and needed time to process each word. "AND WHO IS YOUR LITTLE FRIEND?"  
  
"Hello, Barbie." Harry sighed, accepting defeat. "This is Hermione. Hermione, this is Annie."  
  
"Please, call me Barbie. Everybody does." Annie giggled in a manner that made Lavender and Parvati's giggling sound like theologians laughing over a joke about Einstien. There were two strong theories on why "everybody" called her Barbie. Dudley and his gang figured it was because she was tall, blonde, and slender. Harry thought it was because her head was hollow and made of plastic. "Hello, Hermione." She said in a partronizing voice. "It's so nice of Mr. Dursley to hire another one of you." She took off her white fur coat, which she wore even in this dreadful heat because "that's the price of beauty," and held it out to Hermione. "Here, you may take my coat."  
  
"What?!" Harry cried out in surprise. Hermione was just staring in shock.  
  
"I SAID SHE CAN TAKE MY COAT!" It was Harry's tendency to respond like this to her insane requests and idea's that led her to think he was deaf in the first place.  
  
"Barbie, you can't just do that." Harry said frustratedly.  
  
"Oh, I didn't know you cared so much." Barbie cooed. "Well, if it means so much to you, you may take it." She thrust the coat into Harry's arms.  
  
*Then again, at least the dark wizards would be quick and quite painless in comparison.* Harry thought as he dropped the coat in the cupboard that used to be his home. He slammed the door, to make sure some spiders would fall, then hurried back before Barbie could do anymore damage. Hermione was still staring. Barbie had just finally noticed.  
  
"Oh, you like my eyeshadow?" She asked, completely obvlivous to the nature of the stare. "It's 'Essence of Robin's Egg.' If you do a good job, Mr. Dudley might give you enough money to buy some for yourself. It might even make you a little pretty."  
  
*Too late.* Harry groaned. He hurried over and grabbed Hermione before she could do anything. "Come on, Hermione. Let's go get Dudley."  
  
"Give me your wand." She hissed, pawing at his sleeve.  
  
"No, Hermione." Harry whispered.  
  
"Come on. Just one quick spell. Please?"  
  
"She's not worth it."  
  
"Oh, she's worth it."  
  
Harry made his way up the stairs awkwardly, his left hand guiding Hermione forcefully by the arm, while he kept his right hand, and the wand contained up it's sleeve, as far away from her as possible. She gave up about halfway up the stairs and allowed Harry to lead her into his room, where she exploded into a full rant.  
  
"The nerve of... If I could... she'd better... GAHH!" Hermione screamed, trying to put a sentence together. Where does she get the idea that she can just boss you around like a... like a..."  
  
"House elf?" Harry suggested helpfully.  
  
"Yes, exactly! Now maybe you'll take your SPEW duties more seriously. Oh, I wish you hadn't stopped me!"  
  
"Tell, her ssshe'sss prettier ttthan ttthat airhead." A dry voice called out. "And pleassse be quieter. I'm trying to read."  
  
"Did you hear that?" Harry asked, looking around.  
  
"The radiator hissing?" Hermione asked confused. Harry didn't get it at first, then it hit him like icy water. If he heard a voice, when all Hermione heard was a hiss, then it was a...  
  
"Snake." Harry mouthed as he looked around. There, on the other side of the bed, basking in a sunbeam, lay a giant cobra, reading today's Daily Prophet.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked in Parseltongue, ignoring Hermione's shudder.  
  
"Calm down Harry. No need to ssspill your dragonsssblood." Harry's eyes went wide as suddenly the snake was gone. In it's place, a tall, skinny, sleepy looking man lounged, still reading the paper. He had a flat face, and an extended jaw, wich made him still look like a snake. "I'll sssay it again for the lady'sss benefit." He said, his voice still surprisingly snake like. "It'sss 'Dragon'sss Blood.' Now will you relaxxx?"  
  
"You sneak into our room as a snake and you want us to relax?" Hermione flattened herself against the wall.  
  
"I'm also a parssselmouttth. But I would have ttthought ttthe great Harry Potter, and ttthe clever Hermione Granger would know to sssee beyond apperancccesss."  
  
Hermione and Harry shared a guilty look. He was right, they should know better than to judge him on apperances. Wasn't one of his best friends a half giant? Wasn't he taught by a werewolf? Wasn't his own godfather thought to be a viscious murderer for the better part of thirteen years?  
  
"So that means you ar-" Harry started, before the man, without looking up from the paper, held up a hand for silence.  
  
"Careful Harry." He said, casually flipping the page. "You almost gave away important information for free."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't follow you, sir." Harry said, scratching his head.  
  
"My name, Harry. My name. If I am who I sssay I am, ttthan I ssshouldn't need you to tell me. But if I'm not..."  
  
"I just helped you fill in the holes in your story." Harry finished.  
  
"Exxactly. Now, I am, indeed, Sssmirl. Oh, and congratulatttionsss, Hermione, on making Junior Member."  
  
Maybe it was because Harry didn't know Smirl, or maybe it was because he could turn himself into a poisonous snake, but Harry actually managed to bite back the anger surging through his chest. "Um, excuse me, Mr. Smirl, but-"  
  
"You were wondering why Dumbledore didn't make you a Junior Member?"  
  
"Um, yes, sir."  
  
"Pleassse, ssstop calling me sssir. Missster Sssmirl will do. And I ttthought you'd have figured out how Dumbledore'sss ssslippery mind worksss by now. I'd sssay there are two ssstrong reasssonsss you weren't chosssen. The firssst, and officccial reassson, is that your best defenssse isss not Dumbledore'sss ssspell, for any ssspell can be overcome, but ttthat You-Know-Who doessssn't know where you are. But if you were to be allowed to cassst sssignificant amountsss of magic, ttthen hisss detectorsss would eventually pick up ttthat you were here, and narrow down the sssearch field. Make no missstake, Potter. He isss looking to find you alone. Ttthat isss why I mussst asssk you, Missss Granger, to not cassst anymore ssspellsss while you are here."  
  
Hermione nodded. Harry supposed that made sense, but couldn't Dumbledore at least told him that.  
  
"Um, you mentioned a second reason, si- I mean, Mr. Smirl."  
  
"Yessss. Remember ttthat ttthe Junior Membersss are not full membersss. They are not chosssen for their ability to aid ttthe caussse, but rattther to be allowed to practiccce to defend ttthemssselvesss in cassse ttthey are attacked. Longbottom wasss firssst on ttthe lissst. Hisss parentsss put away a lot of Deattth Eatersss, and after lassst ssspring, the remaining onesss are afraid that Neville will follow in their footssstepsss. Poor little Neville will need all ttthe help he can get. You, Potter, on ttthe ottther hand, well, if my guesss isss correct, Dumbledore figured you didn't need ttthe practiccce nearly asss much asss ttthe ottthersss. Doesss ttthat anssswer sssatisssfy you, Potter?"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Smirl." Harry said a bit sheepishly.  
  
"Now, ttthe ottthersss are ssstill cleaning up from lassst night. I ssslipped out after the excitement ssso I could check on you. Nobody elssse will be able to make it until tomorrow at bessst, ssso you're ssstuck wittth me for ttthe time being."  
  
"Why will it take them so long?" Harry asked wondering if Moody and Kingsley and the others were alright.  
  
"Let'sss jussst sssay ttthey can't loossse Deattth Eatersss asss fassst asss my form can. And ssstop trying to ssspot my markingsss, Hermione. I have none."  
  
Hermione appeared not to hear the last part, for she still studied him and she asked, "Is that why you chose the snake for your form?"  
  
"There are many reasssonsss I chossse ttthisss form. It offersss ssspeed, power, resssilienccce, and deattth. Being a Parssselmouttth, I wasss alssso already fluent in ttthe language. But yesss, thje ability to hide and move where mossst cannot were high on ttthe lissst. Now, if you'll exxxcussse me, I mussst make my roundsss. If you need me, jussst hisss."  
  
"Wait!" Harry called out. "What happened last night?"  
  
Smirl paused, one foot out the window. "Read for yourssself." He said, tossing the Daily Prophet to Harry. Harry caught it and held it out so both he and Hermione could read it. The picture on the front was again of Eliza Thumpgood. This time the other wizards were sedating her with spells and there was a crack across the picture. She must have punched the camera as the picture went off.  
  
Fourth Azkaban Breakout  
  
Ministry's Competance in Question  
  
Yet another breakout from Azkaban prison leads us to wonder what the Minsitry is doing that is so much more important than the safetly of their citizens.  
  
Sir Victor Drakkis, the famous dragon-hunter gone rogue who escaped yesterday, returned in full armament, slaughtering five out of six of the still active dragons, and then proceded to attack the Azkaban guard wizards. He then led ten Death Eaters to assault the prison, freeing the vampire, Lord Vargos, the last Death Eater imprisoned in Azkaban for helping You Know Who before his fall. He then lead the Death Eaters in an attack on the inner sanctum of Azkaban, where the Death Eaters who were caught in the Ministry battle this spring, including the former aristocrat, Mister Lucius Malfoy, were being held. At this point, Dumbledore's band of violent vigilantes known as the "Order of the Phoenix," showed up in a vain attempted to stop the carnage. The so-called "Order" did turn away the evil wizards, but only after massive casualties, and allowing the Death Eaters to liberate four more prisoners in their retreat.  
  
This report is continued on pages 3-7.  
  
"Is all this true?" Harry asked in disbelief.  
  
"Mossst of it. Ssshe put a bad ssspin on it, of courssse. Mossst of the casssualtiesss were Deattth Eatersss. We only lossst one, the Lady Sssonid. Pluss, she jumpsss to sssome conclusssionsss, sssuch asss Drakkisss being a Deattth Eater. Of courssse, ssshe alssso ommitted cccertain factsss that refute her ssstory, sssuch asss Drakkisss'sss absssenccce during the raid on the inner sssanctum."  
  
"He didn't help try to free the Death Eaters Harry caught?" Hermione asked puzzledly. Harry was about to point out that he didn't catch any Death Eaters when Smirl spoke.  
  
"While ttthe Deattth Eatersss were attacking ttthe inner sssanctum, Victor wasss liberating ttthe non-Deattth Eatersss ssshe mentttioned, all of which were Drakkisss'sss old cccellmeatesss. Alsssso, worttth noting, isss that all the guard wizzzardsss he encountered were merely knocked out, not killed."  
  
"So he's not a Death Eater." Harry said with relief. He didn't like the idea of facing a man who killed dragons singled-handedly for fun.  
  
"He might be, he might not. We don't know for sssure. Rita jussst emphasssizzzesss ttthe negative becaussse it sssellsss better. Look what ssshe sssaysss about me. And to ttthink, we usssed to date."  
  
"You dated Rita Skeeter?" Hermione choked, sounding repulsed at the thought.  
  
"Yesss, agesss ago. Back when we were ssstill in Hogwartsss. Now, I really mussst make my roundsss." And before either of them could ask another question, he had slipped out the window, a snake sliding down the rain gutter.  
  
Harry called after Smirl, but he was already gone. Menawhile, Hermiong had already begun flippiung through the Daily Prophet.  
  
"Aha! Here it is, on page 7. 'Perhaps the most questionable of Dumbledore's "Order" is one Mr. Salizz Smirl. A known Parselmouth, Smirl has often been seen near dark wizard gatherings.' Honsetly! He's an auror! He's supposed to be near dark wizard gatherings. Oh! And listen to this! 'Reliable sources say he was not even present to repel the assault on the inner sanctum.' Ooh! I bet she's the source herself! Hiding as a retched bug!  
  
"Why not report her?" Harry suggested, wanting nothing more than to be rid of her horrible articles forever.  
  
"Because she hasn't violated our arrangement. And I'll kiss Malfoy before I let her have moral superiority over me."  
  
"Harry wanted to point out that nobody would know but them, but he could tell by Hermione's clenched jaw that it wasn't enough. So instead he looked at the paper.  
  
"What's this list next to the article?"  
  
"Oh, I think it's a list of the freed convicts. Let's see." Hermione's eyes flicked down the page, reading rapidly. Then, as she reached the bottom of the page, her eyes went wide and her face grew pale.  
  
"Harry, it's... it's..." Rather than finish the sentence, she thrust the paper at Harry. Adjusting his glasses he scanned the article.  
  
* Gaddock, the Goblin Outcast (next to the name was a picture of a goblin hissing and growling at them. The left side of his face was badly burned, and he was missing his left arm and leg.) - imprisoned for murder, illegal use of a wand, and embezzlement from Gringotts.  
  
* Xu Xiang, the Assassin (This one showed a plain-looking Chinese woman dressed in blue staring impassively out the picture. She was rather large, with a flat nose, narrow eyes, and no hair, save for a scalplock) - imprisoned for twelve acts of murder, wand concealment, and carrying unlicensed weaponry  
  
* Matthias the Mad Muggle (It was next to a picture of a young, but bald man, dressed in a blue shirt and trenchcoat with a matching hat and wrap around shades. He was smiling brightly, as if he got a joke nobody else did) - imprisoned for attempting to rob Gringotts, massive cases of resisting arrest, and for twelve breakouts from lesser containment area's.  
  
And finally...  
  
* Paula "Wolfbane" Pettigrew  
  
"Harry." Hermione whispered, finding her voice. "It's Wormtail's sister!"  
  
Harry studied the picture. She didn't much resemble her brother. Unlike Peter, Paula didn't have any rat-like features. Instead, she possessed a soft fairness, which Harry thought might have been beauty once, before Azkaban worried her brow, and the Dementors sunk her cheeks. Her picture revealed a surprisingly feral nature, as it prowled about it's frame, growling silently, revealing fang-like teeth and golden eyes. Harry read over the charges:  
  
* Paula "Wolfbane" Pettigrew - Imprisoned for five acts of destroying Ministry property, twenty acts of aiding fugitives, and numerous cases of resisting arrest.  
  
A shiver ran down Harry's spine as he looked over the list. Thieves and murderers, and Wormtail's sister, all of them skilled at elluding the Ministry, and led by one of the greatest warriors of the modern wizarding world. Harry hoped Smirl was right about the odds of Drakkis not aiding the Death Eaters, because he was very against the idea of facing a group like this. Harry's eyes came to rest on Matthias's picture.  
  
"Hmm, I wonder why his picture doesn't move." Harry said tapping it.  
  
"I'm more interested in why they're holding a muggle in the first place."  
  
"Says here that he tried to rob Gringotts."  
  
"Honestly Harry." Hermione sighed, "You'll never be an auror if you don't learn more. Ministry law states that a muggle who commits a crime gets his memory modified and is imprisoned in muggle jails for a muggled up version of the crimes."  
  
Harry had no response for that, so he shifted the topic to Dumbledore's request for names of people who could do Padronuses. Hermione, who was desperate for wizarding news too, was eager to hear about it.  
  
"Let's see." Hermione mused. "There's you and me, of course."  
  
"Ron will kill us if we don't put him on the list. We'll train him up a bit once we meet up. Seamus also pulled it off."  
  
"Barely. I still don't know what form Seamus's has. I think it's some kind of rat. Don't forget Zacharius Smith."  
  
"I was hoping we could." Harry groaned, remembering the snot nosed Ravenclaw. While on the subject of people he wanted to forget, he added. "And Cho had her swan."  
  
"And there's Alicia and Katie. Oh, but Alicia graduated, didn't she?"  
  
"Yeah, and our qudditch team's all the worse for it."  
  
"Focus, Harry. There's also Anthony... Gold-something."  
  
"Goldstien," Harry commented. "Oh, and Ernie Macmillan. He must have told me a dozen times."  
  
"And Neville makes ten."  
  
"What?!" Harry coughed. "Neville learned Padronus?"  
  
"Yeah. He practiced some over the summer. I think Lupin helped him. We've been in contact a bit."  
  
Harry smiled and added Neville's name to the list. He'd be sure to congratulate him once he saw him again. Neville's wand skill had increased tenfold last year and it had mostly been due to Harry's guidance. He rolled up the paper and gave it to Hedwig, who nipped him affectionately and then flew off through the now-curtained window.  
  
Harry's stomach grumbled. He thought longingly of the leftover hamburger in the fridge, but then shuddered knowing that Barbie was down there. Finally his stomach won out.  
  
"I'm going to go downstairs and get our dinner from last night."  
  
"I'll come with you." Hermione offered.  
  
"Uh, no need." Harry said a bit too quickly. The last thing he needed was for Hermione to do something rash to Barbie. "I'll just be a moment and I want to avoid being noticed. It's easier if I go alone."  
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she didn't press it. Harry slipped out of the room and made his way downstairs, stepping over the squeaky step. He looked quickly around and sighed in relief as he spotted Dudley and Barbie loudly watching television in the other room. He crept into the kitchen and began microwaving their food.  
  
Harry hastily stopped the microwave before it could beep, but his presence was revealed anyway when suddenly the phone rang, causing Dudley and Barbie to look over at him. Sheepishly he picked up the phone. "Hello?"  
  
"Harry?" A confused, somewhat familiar voice said on the other side.  
  
"Mr. Scornsby?" Harry asked, guessing at the voice's owner. His guess was answered by a click and a dial tone. Stunned he hung up the phone and stared until Barbie snapped him out of revere.  
  
"OH, HELLO HARRY! BRING ME A SODA, OKAY?"   
  
"Bring me one too, ol' chum." Dudley said in his horrid accent. Harry rolled his eyes, but decided now was not the time for a confrontation. He took out his hamburger and started zapping Hermione's teriyaki pasta before opening the fridge and taking out two cans of soda. He juggled them deftly as he brought them over.  
  
"Here you go." He said with a forced smile.  
  
"THANK YOU HARRY!" She smiled as if talking to a dog.  
  
Harry choked back a nasty retort, and went back to get the food. As he left, he heard Barbie call out to him. "YOU SHOULDN'T LET HERMIONE EAT THAT! IT WILL MAKE HER GET FATTER!"  
  
Harry caught Hermione halfway down the stairs, this time with her own wand in hand. Harry grabbed her by the arm and once aagain forced her up the stairs.  
  
"It's not fair!" She fumed as Harry led her into his room. "She deserves a good hex or two. Stuck-up, airheaded, ill mannered-"  
  
"You're prettier than she is." Harry interrupted, rememberind what Smirl had told him in Parseltongue. "I'm sure Ron would agree." He added as an afterthought.  
  
"That's not the point, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed defensively, but she calmed down nontheless.  
  
Just then, there was a loud shriek downstairs, presumably Barbie had just opened her cola. Harry laughed and Hermione looked at him for explanation.  
  
"Harry has done a most dreadful thing." Harry said, wringing his hands and doing his best Dobby voice. "Harry shall have to iron his hands."  
  
"Stop it!" Hermione said, failing to hold back laughter. "That's not funny." But soon enough they were both doubled over laughing.  
  
"It's not fair." Hermione hiccuped. "How come you get to punish her, and I don't?"  
  
"Because I didn't use a wand." Harry pointed out, and Hermione blushed slightly and dropped the subject.  
  
They ate their meals quickly. Harry's bun had become soggy and Hermione's chicken was a bit cold, but they didn't complain. Afterwards, they set up Harry's new game station to one of Dudley's old TVs. It had a broken antenna, but otherwise worked just fine. Soul Caliber turned out to be a game where you playd a warrior and beat up another warrior. Harry and Hermione were both equaly abismal at it. They liked the second game, Monster Rancher, much more, and spent most of the afternoon raising a Wolf they named Lupin.  
  
When Hermione's watch beeped out that it was four, Hermione declared it was time to study and Harry, who normally studied late at night so as not to be disturbed, happily agreed to it. It was so nice to finally have a friend to study with that Harry didn't even mind Hermione's near constant tutting about how much he didn't remember from last year. Well, he almost didn't mind, anyway.  
  
At seven, while Harry was doublechecking the ingredients for a pungence potion, the door bell rang. Curious, Harry put down his quill and crept down the stair. Barbie must have left earlier, as Dudley way currently entranced hin his newest video games in the living room. Uncle Vernon opened the door to reveal...  
  
"Mr. Scornsby." Harry said in surprise, remembering the mysterious phone call earlier.  
  
"Hullo, Harry." Jim smiled with uncharacteristic nervousness. "I'm here to finish some red tape on Vern's promotion."  
  
"Yes, yes, of course." Vernon said eagerly  
  
"Oh, and this is my daughter, Summer." Jim said stepping back to reveal a small blonde girl. "Summer, this is Harry Potter."  
  
"Hullo, Summer." Harry said cheerfully as he came the rest of the way down the stairs. Summer was a tiny slip of a girl, even skinnier than Harry was at her age, although she was obviously better fed. She was just naturally small. She had long blonde hair pulled into a braid that fell to her waist, and a smile that threatened to split her face in two. "Pleased to meet you."   
  
Summer giggled. "We've already met, Harry."  
  
"We have?" Harry asked. Summer merely nodded.  
  
"Where's Hermione?" Jim asked.  
  
"I'm here." Hermione said in her Japanese accent, as she came down the stairs, ignoring the half-hidden glare from Vernon. "Hello Summer."  
  
"You look very smart." Summer beamed.  
  
"Thank you, Summer." Hermione blushed.  
  
"Summer." Jim said lovingly. "Why don't you play with ol' cousin Dudley for a bit, while I talk with Harry and Hermione about something.  
  
Summer's warm smile quickly disappeared. "Do I have to?" She asked softly, so only her father and - unknowingly - Harry's sharp ears could hear. "He's mean."  
  
"I'm sure you'll have fun." Jim smiled.  
  
"Dudley." Vernon said eagerly, "Let the girl have a go at some of your video games."  
  
Dudley's face scrunched up at the concept of having to share, but he knew better than to complain. With a grunt, Dudley handed Summer the controller.  
  
"Now, let's have a look at that-" Vernon started, but Jim ignored him. Once he was sure that Summer was happily blasting away aliens, Jim ushered Harry and Hermione upstairs, completely ignoring the stuttering Vernon.  
  
"What's going on?" Harry asked, but Jim didn't say a word until they were in Harry's room. The moment they were in the room he shut the door, but that ws the only decisive thing he did. He opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he were about to say something, then thought better of it. He paced the room, looking into Hedgwig's empty cage, and iddly rustling the instruction books left out on Harry's desk. Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances. They hadn't known Jim long, but they knew that this nervous unsureness was rather unlike him.  
  
"Are you alright, sir? I mean, Jim." Harry asked.  
  
Jim swallowed and blurted out, "Your school... what did you say it's name was?"  
  
Hermione looked at Harry and Harry spoke up.  
  
"Um, I don't think we mentioned the name." Harry lied.  
  
"You didn't?" Jim said in surprise. "THen... what is it's name?"  
  
Seeing Jim at such a loss seemed unnatural, and Harry felt a surge of concern. The name of the school couldn't hurt, could it? "It's Hogwarts, sir."  
  
A wave of relief washed over Jim's face. "So it's real then? This isn't some kind of scam?"  
  
Again, Harry and Hermione shared glances. "What isn't Jim-san?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Well, when I got home yesterday, Summer had recieved this." Jim took out a letter made of old yellow parchment. Harry could make out Summer's name in emerald green letters.  
  
"That's a Hogwarts letter!" Hermione exclaimed.  
  
"Summer is a witch!" Harry shouted.  
  
"Oh what a relief." Jim sighed. "Ever since Venus, my wife, died, I've tried to be levelheaded, for Summer's sake, but I'm just no good at it.  
  
"I'm afraid I don't follow si- Jim." Harry said confusedly.  
  
"School of magic and levelheadedness don't exactly go hand in hand, Harry." Jim smiled, regaining much of his control and cheer. "But it's all true then, right? Magic does exist?"  
  
Hermione again looked to Harry, as if waiting and Harry realized that she was defering to him. For once in his lfe, he was in charge of the situation and not the boy being kept in the dark. For this, he was extremely grateful to Hermione.  
  
"I suppose a little demonstration would be okay." Harry said. "Perhaps a disarming spell?"  
  
Hermione nodded and picked her wand up off the bedside table. She flicked it slowly and said, in a soft voice, "Expelliarmus."  
  
The results were less than spectacular. A feeble flickering bolt hit Jim in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards and the envelope to jump out of his hands, landing a mere half foot away. Though the spell was feeble, Mr. Scornsby's reaction was not.  
  
"I knew it!" He exclaimed. "Deep down, I've always known magic existed." Jim beemed and Harry was happy to see the energetic Jim from yesterday.  
  
"I'm not surpised." Hermione said knowingly. "Unless I'm mistkaen, you're a Mergolis."  
  
"A what?" Both Jim and Harry asked at the same time.  
  
"A Mergolis. It's an abbreviation of 'Merlin's Muggles' but it's been bastardized over time. It's origins are a bit vague. Many believe that Merlin made the Mergolis by casting spells on Muggle knights, while other's believe that he just brought awareness to a group that already existed. Of course, there are some who think that Merlin had an affair with Morgan de Fey and they had a squib son and the whole thing was named posthumously, but the-  
  
"Hermione," Harry interrupted. "You're babbling.  
  
"Sorry. Anwyay, a Mergolis is a muggle who has a magic ability like some wizards have, such as your Parseltongue, Harry. Mr Scornsby is a Spelltale. He can sense the basic personality of a-"  
  
Hermione cut short as both she and Jim stood straight up, a mirrored look of worry on each of their faces. Hermione's wand fell from her fingers without her noticing.  
  
"What's going-" But Harry was talking to air as both of them raced out of the room, Jim crying, "Summer!"  
  
Harry quickly followed then as they raced downstairs, where his eyes met with an odd scene. Summer was cowering behind Dudley, who was in turn hiding behind Aunt Petunia, who was similarly ducking behind Vernon, who was smiling as if today were his birthday.  
  
Their looks of fear, and Vernon's odd look of joy, were directed at a strange man standing in the doorway. Harry was inclined to agree with the trio's fear. He was a large man who looked, like Dudley, as if he had been fat, but the fat had been burned and starved into muscles. His clothes were ragged, filthy, and loose on him. His eyes were sunken and his nose broken, at least twice, probably more. His beard and hair were both horrid jungles of knots that reached his waist, and might have been blonde once, if not for what appeared to be ten years of dirst, dust, and mud covering them.  
  
Hermione and Jim appeared not to have noticed the man yet, as they both were still rushing towards Summer and fussing over her.  
  
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, her fake accent dropped.  
  
"Are you hurt, dear?" Jim flustered.  
  
"Calm down, everyone!" Vernon insisted, but nobody listened. Not even the mystery man, who stepped over the threshhold, right past Vernon and to the foot of the stairs, directly inront of Harry. He locked eyes with Harry, and Harry saw something familiar in the expression of the stranger's eyes. A kind of awe, like a man seeing light after spending years in the dark. Harry had seen this look before, but could not remember where.  
  
"So this is Harry Potter." The man said in a gravely voice. It was not a question.  
  
"I'm afraid it is." Vernon said in disdain. "But how do you-"  
  
"Die." The man said in a calm voice as he grabbed Harry's throat and began squeezing the life out of him.  
  
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	4. A Last Look on Number Four Privet Drive

Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring  
  
Chapter 4  
  
A Last Look on Number 4 Privet Drive  
  
Harry's legs kicked air as he was lifted off the ground, his hands both clamped around the monstrous hand closing around his neck. Try as he might, he could not budge a finger.  
  
"Die," the man stated again, not as a threat or a demand, but rather as a fact. Hatred flowed out of his strange eyes and, in an odd moment of clarity, Harry realized where he'd seen that empty quality before. His godfather Sirius had it, always hidden just beneath the surface of his thoughts. The same darkness appeared in Hagrid's black beetle-like eyes three years ago. And just this past spring, Harry had seen it fused with hatred - as it was now - in the eyes of Voldemort's zealous follower, LeStrange. All of them shared one thing in common.  
  
Azkaban. Those were the eyes of one who had survived the dark touch of the dementors long enough to feel the light of freedom again.  
  
As quick as it came, the moment was gone, and Harry was thrown back into chaos. He needed to get his wand, but he could not seem to force his hands to give up their futile attempt to pry the man's hand away. A small part of his oxygen starved brain realized that the wand was useless anyway, as he couldn't get enough breath to speak a spell anyway.  
  
Desperately, he looked to the others for help. Nearly everyone was shouting, but Harry couldn't hear any of them. Summer was screaming, her untrained magic boosting her already high-pitched cries to a volume and level where they drowned out all other noises, shattered the windows, television, and Aunt Petunia's imitation crystal wine glasses, and triggered every car alarm on Privet Drive, and possibly the rest of Little Whinging.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione searching in vain for her wand. He saw Jim try to rush his assaulter, only to be elbowed off his feet by the man's free arm. He saw Dudley laugh evilly at Harry's misfortune. And he saw two bug-like eyes, the color of dried blood.  
  
*Give up, Harry.* The eyes said with unnerving clarity. *Why fight death? It is inevitable. Leave the troubles and worries of the mortal world behind and join your parents and godfather in eternity.*  
  
Harry felt his hands go limp, releasing the man and allowing him to complete his death grip, cutting off the tiny remaining passage of air. Spots appeared in his already blurry vision.  
  
He was vaguely aware of Hermione screaming at him to fight, but he could no longer hear anything, not even Summer's screaming. He closed his eyes and waited for death.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" A voice called out, loud and sharp, rising over all the rest of the noise, even reaching Harry's unhearing ears. Harry opened his eyes to see a silver green bolt smash into his would-be murderer's back. Harry was wrenched from the man's iron grip and slammed into the wall, his wand shooting from his sleeve like a bullet and striking the last remaining imitation crystal glass. Harry lay on the ground, too weak to move, and watched the man stagger and whirl about to face his new opponent, his fingers extended like filthy claws. Harry looked past him straining to focus on his savior, expecting to see Dumbledore himself. Instead he saw one of the last people he expected to save his life.  
  
Standing in the doorway, the door knocked off its hinges, his wand held high, was Professor Snape.  
  
"Fade," he snarled with even more disgust than usual in his voice. "I might have known it was you."  
  
"Snape," Fade hissed. "I'm not surprised. I knew you were a lapdog for that foolish old man," he paused to spit in distain, "Dumbledore. You're nothing but a traitor."  
  
"I was a traitor for ever working with slime like you in the first place. Returning to Dumbledore was just me coming to my senses. But you'll find I'm not just a traitor. I'm much more," Fade made to lunge but stopped when Snape aimed his wand at him. "I'd be careful, Fade. You are wandless and I was the best duelist of all the Death Eaters, save Voldemort himself. I assure you, my skills have not diminished. Now, I suggest you come quietly. If you do, you will be given a chance to earn your... freedom." He said the last part in a disgusted tone, as if Fade had, in his eyes, no right to such an offer.  
  
"Bah!" Fade spat. "I need no offers of freedom. The Dark Lord has given me more freedom than anybody else has! Besides, nobody can escape the Dark Lord's wrath. Not even me, and certainly not you! He'll get you for this, lapdog, be sure of that! Once the snake bites, he does not release his fangs, until you are lifeless in his jaws."  
  
"Stupefy!" Snape snarled, but he was too late. The spell missed Fade as he leapt through the window. Snape darted out the door and Harry heard him cast the stunning curse twice more. Harry thought Snape must have got him, but Snape returned empty handed a moment later.  
  
"Get up, Potter!" He snapped sourly. "We haven't much time."  
  
"Why what's going on."  
  
"My Legilimancy shield won't stop him for long. Then the dragon's blood is really spilled."  
  
"You, sir!" Vernon snapped, drawing Harry's attention to the rest of the room. Vernon appeared to be the only one to have got over the shock of what had just happened. Dudley, Petunia, and Jim were standing still as statues, with their mouths hanging open. Behind them, Hermione was calming down Summer, who had stopped screaming, but was still shaking.  
  
"I demand that you-" Vernon stopped midsentence, his eyes widening. "What the devil is going on now?!"  
  
Harry turned back to look at Snape. Snape was breathing slow, deliberate breaths through clenched teeth and gripping his left arm, which was wriggling as if worms were crawling beneath the skin.  
  
"Not now!" Snape hissed with an unusual level of fear in his eyes. "I thought I would have more time!" He dropped his wand and clutched his twisting arm.  
  
Harry moved forward to help, but Snape held out his throbbing hand in a half gesture. Harry froze as Snape stared at his arm with morbid fascination. The arm rippled and curved until the elbow was no longer discernable amongst the coils of flesh. His fingers, already shrunken to stubs, were now disappearing into his swelling hand, which folded in on itself to form a mouth as two folds on his knuckles opened to reveal narrowed eyes.  
  
Harry was now face to face with a monstrous snake coming out of Snape's shoulder.  
  
Both the snake and Snape moved like lightening. The snake moved to wrap itself around Snape's neck and choke the life out of him, while Snape moved his remaining hand to his neck to prevent it from doing just that. The end result was that Snape's hand was pinned to his neck but prevented the pressure from crushing his throat.  
  
"Ahh, the brat who lived," the snake hissed, staring at Harry, who knew in an instant who this snake truly was.  
  
"Voldemort!" Harry gasped. He looked around for help, but nobody was moving. They were all standing perfectly still, not even blinking.  
  
"They cannot help you," Voldemort laughed evilly. "Tell the traitor that he can delay his death but not prevent it." At first, this demand confused Harry, until he realized that Voldemort was, obviously speaking Parseltongue.  
  
"What did he say, Potter?" Snape gasped.  
  
"He called you a traitor and said you can't stop him from killing you," Harry repeated.  
  
"Well," Snape coughed, "You tell that snake, I'll dance on his grave before I go to mine!"  
  
"Fool!" Voldemort laughed before Harry could say anything. "You should have learned by now that I can never die!"  
  
Harry felt very odd playing translator for Voldemort, but he continued, knowing he was buying time for both himself and Snape. He glanced across the room to the broken glass where his wand lay. He'd never be able to get it in time.  
  
"You're not immortal yet," Snape sneered, but feebly. "Strong, yes, but there are still ways-"  
  
"Enough!" Voldemort snapped. "Tell that fool, I'll kill him and then you. And your precious Order isn't here to help."  
  
By the time Harry translated, Snape's breath had become short and ragged, his face a pale blue. But he still sneered, as if in victory. "Help... is closer... than... you think. Harry... do you... remember... the dueling club..."  
  
Harry nodded, wondering Snape was thinking. There was the spell Snape had cast to banish Malfoy's snake, but Harry didn't have a wand.  
  
"Now!" Snape chocked and kicked his fallen wand high into the air, falling over backwards in the process. Harry caught the wand and brought it down in a sharp motion calling out, "Epera Evanesca!"  
  
A small, but bright crimson spark burst from the wand and sped straight into Snape's shoulder. There was a tremendous explosion and the snake was blasted free from Snape. It writhed as its body began to disintegrate, starting at the stump and quickly approaching the head.  
  
"This isn't over, boy," Voldemort hissed furiously. "You're not out of the woods yet." And with a puff of acrid smoke, he was gone.  
  
Snape sat up, a look of disbelief on his face, as he felt where his arm once was. Hastily, he ripped off the sleeve of his robe to reveal a bloody mess at his shoulder. Harry stepped back, preparing to face Snape's wrath, but then Snape did the oddest thing.  
  
He laughed. Not his cruel, fake laugh he used when Harry got an answer wrong, but a boisterous, eerie laugh of victory, like that of a mad scientist. And then he did something even stranger.  
  
"Well done, Potter," he said snapping out his hand.  
  
Awkwardly, Harry shook Snape's hand. The moment he did, Snape yanked it back, as if coming to his senses. "Move it, Potter! There's still a lot to do."  
  
"What was all that about?"  
  
"Mind your own business, Potter," he snapped. "We-"  
  
"What the bloody hell is going on?!" Vernon bellowed as he snapped out of the stupor he was in. Harry saw the others starting to come around too. "You march into my house, break my door! Children screaming, broken glass, blood everywhere..."  
  
Snape's eye twitched as Vernon continued bellowing about how much damage he'd caused and how Snape would have to pay for it, or Vernon would have him arrested. Snape massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment, then addressed Harry, "Give me my wand, Potter, and you'll see something we both might enjoy."  
  
Harry felt there was very little that they would both enjoy, but he gave Snape back his wand. In truth, he was glad to give it back. It felt odd, cold and heavy in his hands. He wondered if it always felt like that to use somebody else's wand, or if it was because the wand belonged to Snape.  
  
Snape snatched the wand from Harry's hand and pointed it at Vernon. "Silencio!" He snapped.  
  
"...and I will not ha-" Vernon's voice faded out mid word. He hollered silently for a minute before realizing he couldn't make a sound, and then vainly tried yelling for Snape to remove the spell.  
  
"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked running to his side. "I saw Snape chase the strange man off and then... the next thing I knew Snape was on the floor and missing... missing - what happened?"  
  
"I'm fine," Harry croaked, his throat still sore from the near death experience. "Snape-"  
  
"We don't have time for this," Snape barked. "We have to move quickly. More Death Eaters are surely on their way."  
  
"Hold on," Jim said, holding Summer tightly. "Could somebody tell me what's going on? What's a Death Eater?"  
  
"I was told not to leave the house," Harry argued.  
  
"That was before the Dark Lord broke the spell of protection."  
  
"The Dark who now?"  
  
"But Dumbledore's spell was unbreakable."  
  
"Okay, I caught that one. He's the headmaster of Hogwarts, right?"  
  
"So we thought, but Voldemort somehow broke it. Unless you don't consider what happened tonight as hostile intent."  
  
"Voldemort? Is he working for the Dark thingy?"  
  
"Who was that guy? Fade, you called him. Who is he? How do you know him?"  
  
"None of your business, Potter."  
  
"The man tried to kill me. I reckon that makes it my business," Harry snapped going bright in the face.  
  
"What is this all about?!" Jim yelled, obviously frustrated.  
  
Snape turned to look at Jim. Jim wavered for a moment, than returned the gaze with one of his own. Two different personalities - both equally strong, but polar opposite in manner - clashed like ice and fire.  
  
"Who the devil are you?" Snape sneered, looking him up and down.  
  
"Jim Scornsby," Jim replied defiantly. "Summer's father, Harry's friend, and uh..." He cast a glance at Vernon, who was now bright purple and screaming at the top of his muted lungs, "Vernon's boss."  
  
"Well, Mister Scornsby, I suggest you take your daughter and forget everything you've seen tonight. In fact..." Snape moved to cast a spell, but Harry grabbed his arm.  
  
"No!" he cried. "Summer's a witch. You can't take away their memories!"  
  
"Don't tell me what to do, Potter!" Snape snapped, shaking Harry off, but he lowered his wand. "Well, what about you two?" He said, spying Petunia and Dudley hiding in the corner. "Do you have anything to add? Perhaps a song request? You, woman. You look like you have something to say. Spit it out!"  
  
Aunt Petunia stood straight and, summoning all her strength, said, "You're bleeding on my carpet."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"My carpet," Petunia sneered back. "It's very expensive, and you're making a mess of it."  
  
Snape gazed at everybody in a long sweep, a look of disbelief on his face. "You're mental the lot of you," he muttered. He then held his wand to the bloody wound at his left shoulder and called out, "Purgify!" White-green flames danced across his shoulder, closing the wound into a blackened mess.  
  
"Alright," Snape huffed. "let's thin out this crowd. "You!" He pointed his wand at Vernon, who went from deepest maroon to ghost white in a second. He backed slowly away from the sharp-eyed Snape who brought his wand down with a crack. "Verbosa!" He commanded.  
  
Vernon's voice came back just in time for the end of a very girlish scream. He opened his eyes after a moment, very much surprised that he wasn't dead, or at least a frog.  
  
"I think it's time for you and your family to leave," Snape said calmly, lowering his wand.  
  
"Leave?" Vernon blinked. "But, this is my home! Why should we leave?!"  
  
"It's a Death Eater's hunting ground now. But stay if you'd prefer. I'm sure they'll enjoy torturing you."  
  
"T-T-Torture?" Vernon paled.  
  
"If I were you, who fortunately, I am not, I would gather as much food, clothing and money as you can in the next five minutes, and never look back.  
  
"Al-alright," Vernon stuttered, trying to act as if he was in charge. "Pet-tunia, go get clothes for all of us. Dudley, get some provisions. I'll go get what money I can."  
  
The three rushed off upstairs, into the kitchen, and into the den, respectively. Vernon was back first, with a small case of money, checks, and credit cards, but then he had to take over for Dudley who was trying to pack sugary sweets, instead of non-perishable foods. They were ready in ten minutes, and, after giving the room of wizards a nervous glance, bolted out the front door.  
  
"Aren't you going to say goodbye to them?" Snape asked Harry. "You will probably never see them again."  
  
Harry's heart did a flip. Rid of the Dursley's forever?! It seemed too good to be true, even under the current circumstances. And yet, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of finality. This was the ending of a chapter of his life, for better or worse, and it should be treated with dignity. As painful as the prospect was, Harry decided to try to reach a final peace with them.  
  
Carefully, Harry picked his wand out of the broken glass and went outside. He heard footsteps and knew that Snape was watching from the shadows. Swallowing hard, Harry made his way to the car where the Dursleys were.  
  
"Wait," he called out. Vernon glared at him, while Petunia and Dudley shared nervous glances. "Um, we're probably never going to see each other again."  
  
"One can hope," Vernon grunted as he climbed in the car.  
  
"So I thought I should say goodbye."  
  
"Good-bye?" Vernon humphed. "How about 'thank you,' but I suppose that's too much for a powerful wizard such as you."  
  
"Thank you?" Harry blinked. "For what?"  
  
"Food, clothes, shelter, everything! We took care of you. We gave, and gave much more than you deserved. We should have left you at an orphanage. And this is how you repay us!"  
  
Harry was going to point out that he probably would have received better at an orphanage, but at that point, Vernon slammed the door.  
  
Harry turned around to see Aunt Petunia standing awkwardly, and he was suddenly reminded that she was his mother's sister.  
  
"Don't think I'm going to apologize," she huffed, defensively. "I may not have done the best job raising you, but I did what I could. Lord knows I tried to stamp the nonsense out of you. Then maybe people wouldn't be trying to kill you. But you are my sister's son that much is clear. It's not much, but that's the best I can give you."  
  
Harry thought it was one of the best things anybody could say to him, but he kept quiet about it, as she climbed in the car as well.  
  
"Hope the Deraptors get you!"  
  
"Drop dead, Dudley."  
  
Harry watched them drive away. He wished he could celebrate this wonderful occasion, but he knew they were still in danger. He made a promise to himself that if he survived this, he'd throw himself a party on the first Hogsmead weekend.  
  
Snape beckoned him inside. Harry peered through the darkness for a moment then followed.  
  
"They're setting up a perimeter," Snape said, more to himself than anybody else, as he looked out the window for signs of movement. "All of Little Whinging's probably shielded. They brought Vladimer to put up the stati-ward. Clearly they don't want the Order interfering.  
  
"Um, Professor Snape..." Hermione began, but was shushed by Snape.  
  
"Alright, listen up," he said sharply. "They'll be moving in pairs. One set will be guarding each major exit from here, with more combing the area. Our best advantage is that after all that racket, the police are sure to be enroute. The Death Eaters will want to avoid notice as much as possible.  
  
"What are we going to do?" Hermione asked with worry.  
  
Snape rolled his eyes in annoyance. "You are going to do exactly what I tell you to do, Granger. You and Potter will sneak out the back and head north. Potter, are you familiar with - what was it - Number 16, Scullery Way?"  
  
"The old abandoned place? Yeah. Neighborhood has been trying to get it demolished for years. Kids say it's haunted."  
  
"No ghost would be caught dead in that place," Snape muttered, oblivious to the pun he had just made. "In the basement is a port-key. It will take you to Hogwarts. It's a broken saw blade at the bottom of a tool kit."  
  
"What about you, Snape?"  
  
"Professor Snape," he corrected, "and I will be risking my neck running decoy to save yours. So don't screw up."  
  
"What about Summer and me?" Jim asked, with a worried look at his daughter.  
  
"You," Snape scowled, assessing Jim, "would be lucky to get arrested."  
  
"I beg your-" But Snape cut Jim off.  
  
"As I said before, the police are our best advantage right now. As dedicated as the Death Eaters are, a lot of them would consider a lone muggle prey that's too good to pass up. That would be you. But if you were taken away by the police..."  
  
"I see," Jim laughed. "Eh, a bit of 'drunk and disorderly' never hurt anyone." His face suddenly fell. "What about Summer?"  
  
"The girl? She goes with Potter."  
  
"But it's too dangerous!" Hermione shouted.  
  
"Silence! I am in charge and you will listen to me. Since Summer is a witch, she will attract attention. They might even attack a police car to make sure she's not Potter in disguise. And you don't want to know what they'll do to her once they find out that she's not him."  
  
"But-"  
  
"No more questions. You've wasted too much time already. Harry, give me one of your hairs."  
  
Harry bit back an argument and plucked out a hair. Snape took it carefully and dropped it into a crystal flask containing a murky liquid. The liquid immediately turned bright red and as thick as syrup.  
  
"That's Polyjuice Potion!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
Snape, who was about to drink, lowered the flask. "How do you know what polyjuice potion looks like?" He asked shrewdly.  
  
"I saw some of Crouch's when he was caught." If Snape knew Harry had stolen his potions supplies and made an illegal potion in his second year, he would likely feed him to the Death Eaters himself.  
  
Snape looked at Harry for a moment. He clearly didn't believe him, but rather than argue, he tipped the flask and poured every drop down his throat. His skin began to ripple, much as his arm had moments ago, and he doubled over in pain. When he stood up, Harry was staring at himself. Snape's robes hung loose on Harry's smaller body, almost as much as Ron's muggle clothes did on the real Harry. The transformation was flawless, except...  
  
"There's no scar," Summer said quietly. The fake Harry touched his forehead. "Interesting," he muttered. "I'll have to study this later. Now pay attention!" He snarled with his trademark sneer, so out of place on Harry's face that the real Harry shuddered. "I'll lead them south. Wait five minutes, then head North. You," he said indicating Jim, "leave the moment I'm out of sight. Go down the block before you make a scene. We don't want them to think you have anything to do with this. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Jim had the ability to follow events so bizarre that they left most sound men stunned, but even he was stumbling to keep up. So he just nodded mutely.  
  
"Good luck, Potter," Snape grunted, in a voice clearly wishing him anything but, and then bolted out the front door at a run.  
  
"I hope he never does that again," Hermione groaned. "That was just... creepy!" Harry agreed, but didn't say anything. He was watching Jim, who was looking out the broken window.  
  
"Alright," he sighed, nervously, "my turn." He knelt by Summer. "You take care and listen to Harry, alright?"  
  
Summer nodded. "It'll be okay, Daddy."  
  
"I know it will," he said weakly, pulling Summer into a hug. Harry got the feeling that Summer took care of Jim nearly as much as he took care of her.  
  
He got up, went to the bar, and took one of the unbroken bottles of brandy. "Take care of Summer for me, Harry. And take care of yourself too."  
  
"Don't worry, Jim. We'll be fine," Harry said, not believing a word of it. "Listen. Down the road is Mrs. Figg in the blue house. Have her call the police for you."  
  
Jim smiled weakly, then ducked out the door.  
  
Summer stepped up next to Harry and watched her father stagger down the walk. Harry took her hand to comfort her and she smiled.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione said frantically. "We've got to get going!"  
  
The three of them raced up the stairs. While Hermione searched for her wand, Harry looked quickly over his things. He opened his trunk and dug out the Marauders Map, which he rolled up and tucked into his pocket, and his father's invisibility cloak, which he hung on the corner of his bed. He then looked over the two mysterious gifts. Not wanting to leave behind any clues as to who might have sent them, he decided to take them. He stuffed the notes in his pocket with the map, and dropped the settle-mint and ice pack in the other, shuddering slightly at the cold. The bracer he decided to wear for ease. As he slid it on, he discovered that the silk under sleeve extended past the metal in two triangles, one covering the back of his hand, the other covering his palm, both joined together in a silver ring which slid over his middle finger. The dragon he handed to Summer, who held it tightly with trembling hands.  
  
Harry checked on Hermione. She had found her wand, but was now gathering up books.  
  
"Hermione! Forget the books! We need new ones anyway!"  
  
Hermione blushed, and dropped the books. As she did, Summer tugged on Harry's shirt and said, "He's here."  
  
"Who's..." but Harry trailed off as he turned to look at Summer. Behind her hung the foeglass and in it was a pale, angular face, and it was very clear and defined amongst the misty figures behind it.  
  
Harry moved to lead them out, when he heard a stair creak. They were already here!  
  
"Quick, up against the wall!" Harry yanked the invisibility cloak off the bedpost and led them to the corner of the room, where he threw it over them.  
  
When he first received the cloak, he, Hermione, and Ron all traveled beneath it with ease Now, however, it was a much tighter fit. Hermione was pressed tightly against him, and he was reminded, once again, that Ron would kill him if he knew.  
  
The door creaked open and Harry heard the girls inhale and hold their breaths. He realized he had done the same. Snape had said they would come in pairs, but only one man entered. At first Harry assumed that meant his partner was downstairs, but then Harry remembered that he had been alone in the foeglass. Who was this man who was ready to face Harry and Snape alone, not that he would have to?  
  
The man was not dressed in robes, but rather wore an old fashion suit, complete with a lacy collared silk shirt, cuff links, riding gloves, and a half-cape down one shoulder. He did not look old, yet he had pale skin and cropped white hair, complete with a trimmed beard. His blood red eyes took in the room, and Harry wondered why he looked familiar.  
  
He did not hurry, but examined the room carefully, with mild curiosity. He glanced at the bed, kicked over a pile of books, and looked in the closet. Then he noticed the papers. He picked up both the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler. He flipped through the Prophet briefly, then laughed, and tossed it on the floor, landing right next to Harry's feet.  
  
Suddenly, Harry realized where he'd seen him before. He was in the Prophet, under the list of those who had escaped; he was Vargos the Vampire! No wonder he was so confident.  
  
Harry looked back up at Vargos, who was now sitting on the bed, reading the Quibbler. His head was cocked to the side as if listening, and Harry suddenly remembered one of Lupin's lessons:  
  
"Vampires are not, by definition evil," Lupin said, "but their need for human blood requires them to radically alter their moral views. If they don't they will die, or become a feral monster, unable to resist the sound of the human heart beating, which sounds as loud to them as... as your knuckles cracking, Mr. Finnigan, which I might add, you have demonstrated to be quite loud indeed."  
  
Harry forced himself to breath and tried to calm his heart down. He heard Hermione beside him breathing softly, but rhythmically, and knew she, of course, remembered the lesson as well. Harry was trying to figure out a way to tell Summer this, when she suddenly began imitating Hermione's breathing.  
  
He could feel his heart rate returning closer to normal, but would it be enough to hide from the vampire? It appeared that it was, for Vargos tucked the Quibbler into his jacket and then walked out the room.  
  
Nobody moved at first. Harry listened carefully, until he heard the squeak of the stair. Signaling for the others to wait, he slipped out of the cloak and moved to the door. He glanced out, but he saw no sign of the vampire in the dark halls.  
  
"It's all clear. Let's hur-" Harry's sentence was cut short as something grabbed him by the wand arm. He looked up to see Vargos standing on the ceiling as if it were the floor. He smiled "up" at Harry, with a very cat-like expression.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione burst out into the hall, her wand held high, but the vampire moved Harry so he was blocking any shot. Harry pounded furiously at Vargos's arm as he was lifted closer and closer to his fanged grin.  
  
"You shall not touch him!" The voice was feminine, familiar, and so loud that it left Harry's ears ringing. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor. Vargos was above him, clutching his arm, his hand covered in red and black burns.  
  
"Move!" Harry yelled, wasting no time. He raced into the room, grabbed Summer and the cloak, and bolted down the stairs, two at a time, Hermione right behind him. He burst into the cool night air and kept running. He only stopped to breathe when they were half way down the street.  
  
"Alright," he wheezed, setting down Summer and taking out his wand. "I want you two to stay under the cloak. I'll lead."  
  
"It's too dangerous!" Hermione gasped.  
  
"The cloak won't fit all three of us, not when we're moving. Look, if anything happens to me, you'll be able to curse them in the back. What is that?"  
  
Harry was referring to the long flat object Hermione had tucked under her arm. It turned out to be the foeglass. A light mist wafted from its glassy surface.  
  
"It doesn't work very well when it's not on a wall, but at least it'll give us some warning."  
  
Harry could find no flaw in the plan, so he nodded mutely. "But you two are still hiding under the cloak," he said in a voice which he hoped made it clear that there would be no arguing. Apparently, it worked, because all Hermione did was take the cloak while chewing her lip.  
  
"Now, stay close, and tell me if you see anything."  
  
It was rather odd leading an invisible party, and Harry briefly wondered if this was how Ron and the others had felt while riding Thestrals. He led them through narrow alleyways, over fences, and through darkened yards. Occasionally, Hermione warned him that a Death Eater was near, and he would change directions. Not only did they have to worry about dark wizards, but there were also muggles with flashlights trying to see what was going on, as well as policemen now patrolling the streets. At one point they ran into some police officers making a barricade, and Hermione and Summer had to make enough noise to distract the police long enough to let Harry slip by, then continue on.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione hissed shortly after, stepping out from under the cloak.  
  
"Hermione, what are you doing?"  
  
"You need to see this," Hermione thrust the foeglass forward. Harry looked hard at the mirror. It was indeed harder to use when not on the wall, as the slightest movement caused the image to slosh like a bucket of water. He steadied it and could make out the shape of a dozen or so figures, some clearer then others. But one stood out from the others. First and foremost, and growing clearer by the moment, was Vargos.  
  
An icy, prickling sensation ran down Harry's spine, and he looked back the way they came. Straining to see in the dark, Harry spotted a lone figure just beyond the barricade.  
  
"I think I see him. We have to move fast. Let's hope the police slow him down."  
  
The three set off at a faster pace, which was easier now, as they were beyond the police searches and most of the denizens had given up on finding anything.  
  
Harry allowed himself brief glances back. He did not like what he saw. The figure had passed the barricade. Harry had not seen how, but the officers were all still alive, and didn't appear to have even seen him pass. Even more disturbing was the fact that, though he walked while they ran, he was getting closer. Harry could now see enough detail to know it was indeed Vargos. He could make out the shoulder cape and the lack of robes.  
  
"It's just a little farther," Harry said, wondering if they'd make it. He was sure they'd reach the house before Vargos, but could they find the portkey before he caught them. Harry wanted to go faster, but he knew he was pushing Summer too hard already; he could hear her labored breathing under the cloak.  
  
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the dilapidated house of Number 16, Scullery Way came into view. Its grimy walls and blackened windows reminded him of Sirius's house and Harry felt a swelling feeling of loss surge through him. He immediately squashed it, though not without effort. He had to make sure the others were safe.  
  
Suddenly, Hermione yanked him backwards. "Harry, look!" Harry glanced at the foeglass again. Its surface was so ripply that he could barely make anything out. He saw two vague forms, but that was about it.  
  
Harry looked past Hermione again. Vargos was even closer. Harry was able to make out more details. He could even see the light from Vargos's glowing eyes.  
  
"We don't have much time. We have to move now and take our chances." Without giving her a chance to argue, Harry moved, not to the gate, but to the corner of the ivy covered fence. With a bit of effort, he climbed high enough to see over the wall.  
  
What Harry saw nearly caused him to fall right back down. The oily man from the restaurant was standing in the yard. At his feet, sitting against a tree, was the gangly form of Smirl. He was pale, and shaking, his breath heavy and coming out in short hisses.  
  
"You told me this was the flight point," the oily man said calmly. "You told me the brats would come." Harry's stomach turned. Had Smirl betrayed them? Was he a spy? Harry could feel his face heating up and he felt like hitting something, preferably Smirl.  
  
"It issss.... kssss... ksss..." Smirl said, taking hissing breaths. "And asss far asss I know... ksss... they will."  
  
"You lie!"  
  
"If only... ksss. ksss... I had..." Smirl said, and Harry thought he heard a sob in his voice. Smirl's casual air was gone, replaced with a great remorse and looking closely, Harry could see tears on his cheeks, reflecting the moonlight. Had Smirl been forced to give away the information?  
  
The oily man removed all doubt from Harry's mind. He raised his wand and cast two spells in succession.  
  
"Silencio! Crucio!"  
  
Smirl's back arched and he began to spasm and flop around like a fish out of water. His mouth opened, but no screams came out. Harry felt the simmering anger turn into guilt and then, boiling rage, now focused at the oily man who not only tried to kill him, but was now gleefully torturing another.  
  
"Francis, dear brother," said a dreamy singsong voice. "I found it." It was the woman, the witch from the restaurant.  
  
Francis looked up but kept his wand aimed at Smirl. "Did you destroy it?"  
  
"No," she giggled, "I did better. A gift to the Dark Lord if they touch it." She looked around and pouted. "Aren't they here yet?"  
  
"No, not yet. They'd better come soon, Smirl, for your sake. Isn't it funny? We were trained by LeStrange, and you were trained by the Longbottoms. And now you will share their fate."  
  
Harry had to do something. He fumbled around trying to reach his pocket and the wand within, without falling off the wall. Hermione was whispering urgently, but Harry ignored her.  
  
"You should let me look, dear brother," the woman said in a hungry voice. "Just one tiny drop?"  
  
"You've had too much already, Tanya."  
  
"But if we catch him tonight, we won't need anymore."  
  
"It's not how much is left, but how much you've drank that worries me, dear sister. I'm afraid you're becoming dependant."  
  
"I am in complete control. Let me see once more. Just one drop."  
  
Francis gave in. His wand still pointed at Smirl, he took a small vial from his belt and held it out. Tanya's face become excited as she pulled out the stopper, which resembled an eye dropper, and let one drop fall on her forehead.  
  
She was completely vapid as she restoppered the vial, the drop glowing bright red.  
  
"I see them," she laughed, her eyes closed in bliss. "In fact..." She trailed off as the droplet glowed brighter. Her eyes flicked open, wide as saucers. "My brother? Dead? No! Francis! Kill Smirl now!"  
  
Francis, pale at the news of his own death, hastily raised his now shaking wand. "Avarda-"  
  
"Crucio!" Harry yelled in rage, having reached his own wand. Francis doubled over in pain, but only for a moment. LeStrange had taught Harry, two months ago, that true hatred was needed for the Cruciatus curse and Harry didn't have it in him.  
  
But that moment was enough. In a flash, Smirl was a snake. He sped up Francis's torso, onto his wand arm, and sunk his fangs into the exposed flesh. Francis stared in disbelief at his arm, the wand and vial both falling to the ground. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, then collapsed.  
  
Tanya ran, not towards Francis, but to the vial. Harry snapped his wand and called out, "Accio vial!" The vial shot into Harry's hand. Unfortunately for Harry, this left him with no hands to hold onto the wall, so he fell.  
  
"Harry, help!" Hermione screamed. Harry looked up to see Vargos struggling with air. A second later, Harry's brain clicked back on, and he realized that Vargos was attacking an invisible Hermione. Harry tucked away the vial and flung himself at Vargos.  
  
Harry's arms wrapped around Vargos's throat, and once again, Harry felt his touch burn Vargos. Vargos screamed and, with great effort, flung Harry into Hermione.  
  
Harry fell into Hermione and Summer. He tried to get to his feet, but he was tangled in the silvery cloak. Finally, he managed to stand up.  
  
Vargos was standing a few feet away, rubbing his throat, which was black and blistered where Harry had touched him. Behind him, Tanya was rattling the gate. It appeared to be locked, and Harry remembered that Moody had stepped on her wand, last night.  
  
"Move!" Harry grabbed Summer and the cloak and ran as fast as he could. He could hear Hermione's sneakers slap against the pavement and knew she was right behind him. Over the din of the street, Tanya wailed like a ghost.  
  
"Noooo! Bring it back! Please! Bring it back!"  
  
Harry ran blindly taking turns at random. He knew that they were doomed. Vargos was faster and stronger than them. They were tired and had nowhere to go. A direct confrontation was out too. Harry had no idea what spells worked on a vampire, but he knew they were immune to most of the spells he had.  
  
There was only one option that had a remote chance of success: his touch. For some reason, his touch burned Vargos, as much as it had burned the Voldemort-possessed Quirell. He did not know why it affected Vargos, but he wasn't about to question his only advantage.  
  
Harry stopped and put down Summer. Ignoring Hermione's cries of worry and confusion, he turned to face Vargos. Vargos was a mere ten feet away, his pale skin nearly glowing in the moonlight. He stood tall and showed no signs of fatigue from chasing them across Little Whinging.  
  
"Decided to face your death as a man, eh Harry?" He laughed in a rich lively voice.  
  
"It's me you want," Harry declared his voice strong, in sharp contrast to his stomach, which was twisted into knots. "Let them go."  
  
"Harry, no!" Hermione cried, but Harry didn't look. He stood as still as he could, staring at Vargos, and willing his knees not to shake.  
  
"I do not spare prey, and I do not bargain with the condemned. But, since you gave me such a good hunt, I will be merciful. I will kill you first so you don't have to watch the others die."  
  
Harry felt that hardly fit the definition of merciful, but he didn't have a chance to argue. Vargos was moving closer, and Harry saw his chance.  
  
Harry leapt forward, aiming to grab him by the neck as he had last time. However, Vargos appeared to have predicted this. Obscured by the shoulder cape, Harry didn't see the bronze scepter until it was too late. Harry was caught full in the stomach by it, and flung backwards at tremendous speed. He slammed into a post box, jarring his back and shoulders. His right arm popped as the force of the blow swung it out, and ripped the wand from his hand.  
  
Harry slumped to the ground, pain giving way to numbness. He tried to focus, to clear his head, but could not. He was dimly aware of Vargos stepping close, and once again he heard a dry voice telling him to accept his fate.  
  
*You have nothing in this world,* it said mournfully. *No family. You are alone. You face anguish and torment and for what? To save a bunch of sheep, too scared to face the truth until they were unable to hide from it any longer. They insulted you, called you mad, and now they ask that you die for them!*  
  
Apathy spread through Harry's limbs. The voice was right. Why bother suffering when it could all be over now. It'd be quick and he would be with his parents and Sirius.  
  
Harry heard a noise and looked up. Hermione was standing between him and Vargos, her wand brandished high.  
  
"Luminesca!" She sobbed over and over again, firing bolts of sunlight at Vargos. But the spell was too tricky, the night too dark, she was too tired, and he was too strong. The sunlight fizzled and washed harmlessly on his cape. Harry tried to tell Hermione to leave him, or maybe come with him, but it was too much effort to speak.  
  
Harry watched as Vargos grabbed Hermione by the neck and lifted her from the ground. Light glistened off his fangs as he prepared to feed. Summer kicked and punched him vainly, but he ignored her, intent on his food.  
  
Suddenly, the lethargy lifted from Harry. He couldn't let Hermione become a vampire! He tried to rise, but couldn't. Something was wrong with his arm; it wouldn't move right!  
  
"Help!" he called out desperately, praying somebody would hear, not knowing what good it would do.  
  
As if in answer, night became day. The whole street lit up and Vargos howled in pain, wreathed in ghostly white flame. Hermione fell unceremoniously to the ground, as Vargos' shape blurred. At first Harry thought he was burning up into a heavy smoke that rolled along the ground, but then he realized it was not smoke. Vargos was melting into thousands large spiders, which scurried down the gutter and out of the light.  
  
Heat on the back of his neck made Harry aware that the light was from a source behind him. He turned around to see his salvation.  
  
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard," smiled Stan Shunpike from the door of the triple decker purple bus. "Need a lift?" 


	5. Forboding Dreams

Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Forboding Dreams  
  
Stanley's eyes went wide when he saw the scene before him. "Merlin's beard, you're all a mess!"  
  
Harry looked back to see Hermione, who had collapsed in the street, sobbing. Summer was standing next to her, patting her shoulder.  
  
Harry was about to explain when Stanley said loudly, "False stop! Messed a post box though. Gimme a tick t' fix it."  
  
Motioning for them to be quiet, Stan hurried over to them. Harry heard him take a sharp breath when he came around the post box, and got a good look at Harry.  
  
"Looks like we did a number on this one, Ern!" he yelled, then turned to Harry and spoke in a softer voice, nearly a whisper, "Blimey, you're a right tangle if ever I saw one. Hope ya gave as good as ya got. Can ya stand?"  
  
Harry tried to stand again, but his right arm still wouldn't work. Eventually, with help from Stan, he managed to his feet.  
  
"We'll have you right set up in a jiff, but until then, don't make a sound. I'll explain on the bus. Now let me fix this 'ere post box."  
  
Harry looked behind him and saw a huge dent in the box, presumably from him hitting it. No wonder he felt as if a train had run over him. Stan waved his wand and, with a loud clang, the dent popped back out.  
  
Silently, he lead them back to the bus. "Is the coast clear?" Stan asked Earn.  
  
"Yeah, 'salright now. But that Cindy McMaima comes down to check every stop. She just went back up. She's up t' somethin', I wager."  
  
Stan nodded, then ushered them in. Harry was surprised. The bus had been remodeled, so that the first deck was a cafe. Numerous cracked glasses and chipped mugs demonstrated the problems with this new setup. Sure enough, the bus gave a loud crack as it started, and another glass fell off the shelf behind the counter. An orange bolt shot out from under a table and wrapped itself around Hermione's legs.  
  
"Crookshanks!" Hermione squealed.  
  
"Yeah, 'e 'opped on a couple o' stops ago," Stan said. "Seemed ta know what 'e was doin' so we let 'im ride," he then noticed Harry looking at the bus's new decor. "Business has been good, so we did a bit o' remodeling," he beamed. "Beds're all upstairs now. Now let's have a look at you." He took down a wooden first aid box. He took out a small glass lens and passed it over Harry's body.  
  
"Hmm, nothin's broken," he said finally. "Just a dislocated shoulder. Don't worry, though. Got an ol' family trick fer takin care of that."  
  
The "ol' familly trick" turned out to be punching Harry hard in the arm. There was a loud pop, and, although Harry's shoulder hurt even worse than before, he could once again move his arm.  
  
"Anything else botherin' ya? No? How about you ladies? Nothin? Well, good t'hear. And what's yer name?" The last part was directed at Summer..  
  
"My name is Summer Scornsby, how do you do?" Summer said in rehearsed tones.  
  
"Jus' call me Stan. No need t' be so formal. Here, I got somethin' for ya." He handed her a chocolate frog.  
  
"We're coming to our next stop," Ern called out. "Better hide 'em." And Harry found himself ant the girls being shoved into a broom closet.  
  
Harry listened carefully, first to the sound of footsteps on the metal stairwell, then to Stan's "Take care, Albert," and then to the door closing and the bus rocketing off again. Harry tried to open the door, but Stan was leaning on it.  
  
After a moment, Harry heard the echo of metal footsteps again, and Stan let them out.  
  
"Sorry 'bout that."  
  
"Could you please tell me what's going on?" Harry said with a considerable effort to keep his voice calm and quiet.  
  
"Alright, alright, I'll tells ya. But first let's get sum food in ya. Would y'like tea or chocolate?"  
  
Harry and Summer had chocolate. Hermione opted for some Earl Gray with lemon. They sat down at a table and Stan brought out the drinks, and a plate of ham sandwiches. Harry had missed dinner and started wolfing them down, but Hermione, who was already green from the rickety, bouncing motion of the Knight Bus, politely refused.  
  
"Alright, here's how things went down. As you know, 'bout a year ago. Dumbledore said that You Know Who was back. Fudge and the Prophet said he was nuts, you too. But looks like Dumbledore was right. Shoulda known he was right. Ern here said so all along. Din'cha?"  
  
Ern nodded. "Won fitty galleons from bets w' a bunch o' folks."  
  
"You gambled on the return of Voldemort?!" Hermione exclaimed, causing Stan and Ern to shudder.  
  
"No," Ern muttered, recovering, "I bet on Dumbledore bein' right. An' a bet on Dumbledore aint a gamble, 's an investment."  
  
"Anyhow," Stan said, steering them back onto the subject, "shortly after Ern collected 'is winnin's, who gets on the bus but Dumbledore hisself. Naturally, Ern, here offers to split it w' him, but 'e settles fer a drink.  
  
"So we finish our rounds, an take Dumbledore out fer that drink. Turns out 'e 'ad an offer fer us. Me and Ern are now part o' the Oder o' the Phoenix."  
  
Harry spit out a large mouthful of hot chocolate. "You're in the Order?" He coughed.  
  
"Yeah," Stan said, sounding as if he was debating if he should be insulted or not, but went on. "See, 'e 'ad a feelin, you was gonna be in trouble. Bout to step on a swampstorper if ya get m' meanin. So 'e asks us t' drive through Surry as oft'n as we could, w'out bein obvious. Says if we were ta run inta ya, we should take ye where ya needs t'go, an not let anybody know ya was here. That's why we can't let the other passengers see ya. Least we can do fer ya, after all you've done fer the rest o' us."  
  
Harry was about to thank them when Ern spoke up. "Oi, better scurry on. We're approachin' McMaira's stop."  
  
Stan rushed Harry and the others into the broom closet again. Once again he heard the sound of somebody descending the metal stairs. After awhile, he heard Stan say, "If'n ya don't mind, miss, we's still got one stop left." There was the distinct sound of the door closing, and then the gunshot noise of the bus zipping off again, and Stan let them out.  
  
"We still got one passenger. We'll drop 'im off, then take ya wherever's ya wants ta- Ern! I told ya no more joke frogs!"  
  
Harry turned. Summer had just opened her frog. Unlike a normal chocolate frog, this one had leapt out of her hands and continued to elude her as she chased it around the cafe, Crookshanks right behind her.   
  
"I've never seen a chocolate frog do that before."  
  
"That's cuz it's a Chocolate Toad. From a new gag shop. The Wheezing Wizard's Weasel."  
  
"You mean Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?"  
  
"Pretty sure it's Wheezing Wizard's Weasel, but I could be wrong," Stan shrugged. "Anyway, ya open a Toad an' ya work for yer sugar." He pointed at Summer who was now happily chasing the toad around the little kitchen, while Crookshanks perched on the counter, ready to attack.  
  
Harry, now that he had time to reflect, suddenly realized how exhausted he was. Two near death experiences, a long trek through the dark, and a dislocated shoulder, all without supper. Harry also realized, with a cold, clammy feeling, that both time he had been confronted with death, he had given in, and it was only through the help of others that he was able to shake it off. He wondered if the dry voice was some sort of spell that Voldemort, or maybe Fade, had cast on him, but decided to worry about it later, and instead lazily watched Summer. Hermione, meanwhile, was forcing herself to take small bites of a sandwich, hoping the solid food would settle her stomach. She looked over at Harry, as if wanting to ask him something, but appeared to think better of it, after seeing Harry's exhausted expression.  
  
Eventually, they had to hide again, as Mr. Edwards was dropped off. Once they were out, however, Harry had a difficult question to answer.  
  
"Where to?" Ern asked, shutting off the headlights. Harry froze. Where could they go? His first thought was Hogwarts. It was the safest place, of course.  
  
But would they make it? The Death Eaters had set up their trap around Harry awfully fast, and would know that Harry would try to make it to Hogwarts. By the time they got close, who knows what they would have set up to greet them.  
  
Last time he had gone to Diagon Alley and got a room in the Leaky Cauldron, but then again, he wasn't being hunted by an army of Death Eaters then. He was sure they could hide there awhile, but they would eventually be discovered. Harry's scar wasn't the easiest thing to hide, and what would they do then?  
  
Then it hit Harry.  
  
"Take us to Stoatshead Hill," Harry said, ignoring Hermione's stare. Hermione opened her mouth to ask questions, but Harry gave her a look, and then started asking Stan for information about the wizarding world.  
  
"It's a right mess, that it is," Stan sighed. "Everybody's panicking, and the ministry's got a job of calming them down, as nobody's trustin' them no more. Heard there are groups tryin' to get Fudge out of office. Anyhow, people are buyin up all the emergency supplies, an buildin up spell bunkers an' safe houses. Ern and me 're busier than ever."  
  
"Why are you busier?"  
  
"Lot o' people gettin' all paranoid. Reckon they's got a Death Eater fer a neighbor or offended som'un who might've been one in a bar, and now they wants ta disappear all quiet-like. Well, the floo networks monitored, and it's a might hard to move all their stuff by broom. So they call us ta tow 'em to the other side o' England. 'Course the ministry's tryin' to calm 'em all down with emergency portkeys an' hot lines an' such but-  
  
"Is it safe for her to eat that?" Hermione asked, indicating the chocolate toad that Summer had now caught. Crookshanks was now watching it with curious eyes, his tail twitching hungrily.  
  
"What? Oh, yeah. Got anti-dirt spells all o'er it, t' keep it clean. Could pour water on it and not even get it wet."  
  
Summer took this to be enough and took a big bite out of the toad. She broke off a twitching leg for Crookshanks. The squat faced cat batted it around for a bit before eating it, then hopped into Harry's lap and went to sleep.  
  
Harry wished he could do the same, but he had to stay vigilant. It wouldn't be much longer.  
  
Harry was just starting to fall asleep, when the bus gave a particularly loud pop, and pulled to a stop.  
  
"Alright, here ya are. Though I don't get why you want ta be here."  
  
"It's probably best that way," Harry said, with grim images of Smirl in his head.  
  
"Will you tell me what we're doing here?" Hermione asked gesturing wildly. True to their word, Ern had driven up the hill to the very top.  
  
"I'm pretty sure I remember how to get to the Burrow from here," Harry said absently, trying to think.  
  
"Why are we going there? Nobody's home!"  
  
"Exactly. They won't think to look for us there. And we'll be able to keep an ear on events with Mrs. Weasley's radio. Once Mr. Weasley or Ron returns we can figure out what to do then."  
  
"But why are we out here? Why not go directly to the Burrow." Harry could understand Hermione's impatience. None of them were in prime conditions for a long walk.  
  
"I didn't want them to know where we were going."  
  
"You don't- You don't think they're spies, do you?" Hermione asked aghast.  
  
"No, but neither was Smirl. He was an auror, trained by the Longbottoms, who were the best from what I've heard. And Francis cracked him in hours. What chance would Stan have." When Hermione didn't answer, Harry continued. "Let's go. If we hurry, we can make it before daybreak."  
  
Travel was easier than Harry had thought it would be, as the sky was already beginning to lighten. The three traveled in silence, which suited Harry, who was focusing all his attention into putting one foot in front of the other. His back ached and his wand arm felt like lead. It briefly crossed his mind that if they encountered any Death Eaters on the way, they were doomed, but he was unable to hold onto the thought, and in another moment, it was gone.  
  
Suddenly, Crookshanks bounded forward and disappeared over the ridge. A moment later they saw why. As they approached the ridge, the lopsided, tower-like house of the Burrow came into view, as if it were rising from the ground. Crookshanks was already chasing chickens around the yard.  
  
"Crookshanks, leave the chickens alone," Hermione yawned.  
  
Crookshanks gave the chicken a longing glance and a final hiss, then sped back to Hermione.  
  
Together, the four of them approached the door. It was locked. So was the back, the cellar, and all the windows. Not even Hermione's alohamora could open them.  
  
They were about to give up when Crookshanks found the spare key, buried deep in the chicken coup. While Hermione debated if she should scold or praise Crookshanks, Harry took the key and let them in.  
  
Hermione began to discuss rooming, but Harry didn't listen. He flopped face first on the couch and was asleep in an instant.  
  
Harry found himself once again standing in the bizarre stone hallway. There was no sign of the gray-haired knight, nor the hideous beetle. He decided to try to find the knight, both for safety, and to ask questions.  
  
He took a closer look around him. As before, all that lay before him was blurry and shrouded in mist. What he hadn't noticed before was that the hallway appeared unfinished. The archways were undecorated, with no doors within them, and Harry was pretty sure that, beneath the fog, there was no floor of any kind. Squinting, he could just make out a fork in the hallway, far away, that split into four paths, and continued into the mist.  
  
He then looked behind him. As before, the hall was sharp and defined with high detail, bout now he could see that there was a hazy blur in certain area's, where the sharp cut walls became rough, and the details smooth and shallow. The archways along this way had doors - large stone ones - with a variety of scenes embossed on them. Strange runes were carved into the tops of the doorways themselves. They ranged in number, some doors having only one, others having hundreds. Like the hall, some were hazy, their images worn and faded.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, Harry set off down the hall, hoping to find the knight or anybody who could answer his questions.  
  
Soon he came to a little opening where the hallway met with several others to form a little room, with one hall leading off in the opposite direction. All the other passageways, including the one he had come from were on one side of the room, with a metal door directly across from the lone hall on the opposite side. Like the other doors, the metal one had an embossed image on it, this one highly detailed, with extremely exact lines. Harry had no problems identifying what was depicted: The large chamber in the Department of Mysteries where the veil stood on a dais. He shuddered and moved past it to examine the other passageways. There were two other halls, both of which looked like the one he had emerged from, except both were sealed off with a flawless smooth wall.  
  
More as an excuse not to open the grimly marked door than anything else, Harry decided that he would see how far the hallway went before he checked any of the doors. turned to go down the opposing hallway, which was the only one left open, aside from the one he had come down.  
  
As Harry walked down the hall, he noticed the it changed slowly. The haze become more common, as the walls became a bit rough and uneven. The doors were getting a bit more spread out too, and more faded. Some even had cracks in them.  
  
Several times more he encountered similar little "rooms." All of them had multiple halls on the wall he emerged from, and all of them were blocked off. Each time the only other exit was a lone hall on the opposite wall. The number of hall ways varied from two to four, but there was always a metal door opposite the lone hallway. The first one he encountered had only one passageway, and a picture of a graveyard on the door, but the next one had six halls and a picture of a small house on a hill. The one after that had three halls and a picture of a bathroom. Although the walls and stone doors were getting rougher and lower in detail, the metal doors, and the rooms around them, remained in sharp detail.  
  
Curiously, the one after that had no other passageways, but instead had a large archway at the beginning of the path. It must have been majestic once, but now it was crumbled and lay in ruins. Harry saw the keystone, lying on the floor, cleanly cracked in two. Just beyond was the metal door, this one depicting a bare room with a window. Still not knowing what to do, Harry continued down the hall.  
  
The hall was quite a bit different by now. The haze had grown prevalent, and the walls and floors were so rough that it resembled a cavern more than a hall. The doors had become sparse, and faded, some of them barely visible against the wall. There had been a large jolt in clarity shortly after the last metal door, but now it was rapidly descending back into its vagueness.  
  
Harry pressed on. He traveled a long way without seeing any metal doors. The stone doors were rare now, and almost all entirely vague.  
  
Suddenly, Harry heard a clatter. He turned around to see a strange creature. It was the same gray as the hall, making it hard to see. It resembled a cat, but with enormous, bat-like ears and large, marble black eyes. Its front legs had hand-like paws, and it had two pairs of back legs. All of its legs were webbed like a flying squirrel's, allowing it to glide down the hall Finally, it had nine tails that fluttered in its wake.  
  
When it saw Harry, it gave a confused warble and fell from the air. Harry moved towards it to see if it was hurt, but the moment the funny looking creature hit the ground, it bolted down the hall, past Harry, its tails and ears flapping wildly.  
  
Harry sped after it, but the ground was becoming rockier and rockier. The doors were now extremely rare, and Harry was barely able to make them out at all. He also saw no signs of any metal doors or blocked intersections at all.  
  
Eventually, Harry stopped running The odd creature was gone and the footing was very treacherous now. The haze was everywhere and Harry found that anything more than a dozen paces away was an undecipherable blur. The walls were void of any notable detail at all.  
  
Harry continued until he saw - in sharp detail, strongly contrasting the blurry, bare walls - the gray-haired knight from before. He sat upon a hazy rock, feeding what looked like hard bread to the bizarre creature Harry had seen earlier. The creature looked warily at the knight, but cautiously took the bread anyway. Behind him stood a figure concealed in a hooded cloak of midnight blue. Harry realized it was a woman, although it was hard to tell. Her form was almost completely hidden by the heavy cloak, and her angular chin and full lips barely visible under the shadow of the hood. She smiled warmly, then stepped back, bowing her head as she did, allowing the shadows to completely hide her face.  
  
"Ah, Harry," the knight smiled. The creature looked up and scurried behind Harry's leg. Harry reached down to pet it, but it jumped at his touch and scurried down the hall.  
  
"Nervous fellow," the silver haired man laughed. "Give him time He's not used to seeing you here yet."  
  
"Um, where exactly is here, sir?" Harry asked, still eying the woman. Harry wasn't sure, but she looked young, like she wasn't much more than five years older than him.  
  
"So, keeping your wits about you, Harry? The man said, all humor gone from his voice. "The Creelin are growing stronger and time is growing shorter. Have you learned of my legacy?" he asked expectantly.  
  
"No, I haven't," Harry muttered in agitation. "I've been a bit busy trying to stay alive. Who are you anyway?"  
  
"I'm afraid I cannot tell you that."  
  
"Alright, but what do you mean by your 'legacy?' What is it?"  
  
"It is a weapon that will be essential to your victory. I can't say more at this time. Have you sought out the one I mentioned when last we met?"  
  
"No I haven't," Harry said hotly. "I don't suppose you can tell me who he is either?"  
  
"Don't take this lightly, boy!" The knight said with sudden fierceness. "The passing of any information from my world to yours is a valuable gift and a costly trade. There are many restrictions that bind me. I will not sacrifice the importance of my advice to sate a mild curiosity. Now for your question. The one you seek is one of the wisest and eldest of those who reside at the school. His advice is heeded by all he speaks to."  
  
"That would be-" but Harry's sentence was cut off as the corridor began to shake. The funny little creature came scurrying back again to hide behind Harry's leg. A dark presence surged after it.  
  
Harry felt a strong pull sucking him into the darkness, and a firm grip holding him back. He saw the knight's multi-metal clad arm gripping his shoulder, but it wasn't enough. Harry was slipping towards the oblivion spreading before him.  
  
"Harry!" the woman cried, running forward. But as she touched the darkness, she melted into smoke. The knight's grip finally slipped, and Harry plunged into the darkness, and towards a pair of red eyes.  
  
Harry was in a cold stone room. He sat in a black wood throne - hard, towering and strong. Before him twenty or so men and women, all dressed in black robes and white masks, all knelt in respect and servitude.  
  
An evil smile rose to Harry's lips as he sent his followers away with a wave of his long white fingers. A sharp clap brought four new cloaked men in. Unlike the others, these four wore dark red robes, the color of dried blood, and rather than smooth, featureless masks, theirs were shaped like skulls. The two in the middle were both medium height and slight of build, their hands on their wands, tucked into their sashes. To their sides were two larger men. The left one was exceptionally large and square, and held a massive chain with a bladed weight on the end. The one on the right, was tall and powerfully built and carrying a familiar bronze scepter.  
  
They looked expectantly at Harry, but he merely held up a pale hand for silence, and then spoke in a high pitched voice.  
  
"Hello, Harry," he said to himself, and Harry felt his mind slip slightly away from Voldemort's. "I'd like you to meet my Reapers. Five highly trained assassins with the task of hunting down my most dangerous opponents. You have the honor of being their first victim since I decided to reassemble them."  
  
Maybe it was because his consciousness was somewhere between his own mind and Voldemort's, but Harry felt much less fear at being given a death sentence than he probably should.  
  
"Funny," he said, using Voldemort's mouth and voice. "I only see four."  
  
The two smaller Reapers shared a confused glance. One of them said, "Tanya is still in mourning, my lord."  
  
Disgust rose in Harry's stomach How could someone so pitiful, so weak, so... emotional, have been chosen to be one of his Reapers? It didn't take Harry long to figure out that he was still suffering the overflow of Voldemort's rage.  
  
"The sentimental fool!" Voldemort snapped. "Does she think our plans will stop just so she can weep for her brother?"  
  
"She weeps not for her brother," the other Reaper added, "but for the loss of the vi-" He was cut off as the man Harry assumed to be Vargos clamped a mighty hand around his throat."  
  
"What?!" Voldemort roared, and Harry felt new levels of rage and fury swelled in his chest.  
  
"The vial? You lost the vial?!" Voldemort roared at Vargos. "Why was this not mentioned earlier?!"  
  
"Forgive me, my lord," Vargos bowed, "but I-"  
  
"Crucio!" Voldemort hissed, and Vargos fell to his knees. "You thought to lie and escape my wrath, did you? But you should know I punish deception far worse than failure.  
  
"I was going to tell you, my lord," Vargos gasped, "after..."  
  
"After what?" Voldemort asked cruelly.  
  
"After you... were done with... the boy..."  
  
Harry felt Voldemort's shock and then his full attention was on Harry.  
  
"It won't matter," he said with false indifference, "because you will tell me where you are!"  
  
Harry's emotion was no longer distilled as he felt a wave of panic and fear. Voldemort was now summoning memories, much as Snape had done in occlumency lessons, but this time, Harry had neither wand nor body to fight back.  
  
Harry found himself in a whirlwind of memories. Snape had not been kidding when he said he was going easy on Harry in all those lessons. Voldemort shifted through his memories ten times faster than Snape had, and with a greater sense of purpose.  
  
A bright green light as Lilly begged Voldemort to spare Harry. Himself at age six, watching through the fence, as Dudley and his friends raced go-carts. Cho dancing with Cedric, a year and a half ago. Tom Riddle's Diary. Being trapped on the school roof. Voldemort sneering from the back of Quirrel's head. The graveyard. Black and LeStrange dueling at the ministry.  
  
Harry was spared what came next as Voldemort sped up the spell. Now the memories were coming and going so fast that Harry couldn't even fully identify them. He was eating, working, running, flying, alone, with friends, with Cho, on a hard floor, in a cold rain, in a warm bed, happy, sad, angry, nervous...  
  
Just when he thought his head was going to explode the images stopped, and Harry found himself standing once again in the Dursley's living room.  
  
Harry watched as the bleeding, one armed Snape issued commands. Everything started speeding up. He could do nothing but watch as he and Hermione fled from Vargos and into the darkness.  
  
He tried everything he could think of, everything Snape had taught him, but nothing worked. Voldemort plowed through his shields before he could erect them, and knocked down all the walls he build as if they were nothing. He was powerless. Already they were at the Number 16, Scullery Way, and Vargos was attacking the invisible Hermione.  
  
Harry felt a pang of guilt. How many times had Hermione put herself in danger for him? How many times had he nearly got her killed?  
  
Suddenly, they were in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. Harry was staring in shock at the petrified Hermione. Ron looked as if he was about to cry, and McGonagall looked lost.  
  
"No!" Voldemort hissed and they were jerked back to Scullery Drive as if by portkey. But Harry felt a surge of courage. He had a weapon now!  
  
But it proved more complex than Harry had thought. He tried everything, from Quidditch, to being tortured by the Dursleys. But he could not move the image again. Now Harry was turning to face Vargos. If only he'd been able to catch him and touch his face, as he had Quirrel. Then-  
  
They were in the empty chamber with the Mirror of Erised. Quirrel lunged for Harry, but he ducked down and threw his hands on Quirrel's face. He watched them struggle on the floor, saw Dumbledore race to pull Quirrel off and-  
  
"Stop it!" Voldemort hissed, slamming them back to the fight. But Harry had it figured out. At least, he hoped he did. If he was correct, he could not just change the image, but rather connect it to another memory through common events, and then move towards that.  
  
He figured this out just in time to see him crash into the post box. There was a loud pop, he hadn't heard last time, as his arm dislocated. Quickly, he focused on another time he had lost the use of his arm.  
  
The hot sun beat down on him as the snitch struggled vainly in his hand. He struggled in fear as Lockeheart raised his wand, ready to cast a spell.  
  
"Stop wasting time, boy!" Voldemort hissed, but Harry focused on the image, willing Lockeheart to cast his spell. Sure enough, Harry's arm flopped out into a rubbery mass.  
  
Voldemort grunted again, and the image began to fade. Harry strained, matching his will against Voldemort's. But the image was slowly beginning to change. It was almost too late. Soon he would see the Knight Bus, and it would be over. He had to do something! He had to-  
  
Harry sat up sharply. His scar was burning severely, and there was a dull pain in his arm and a sharp pain in his leg. A bright light was blinding him. He knew it was the headlights of the Knight Bus. It was over. But why did his leg hurt? He didn't remember anything happening to his leg.  
  
"Harry! You're awake!" Hermione sobbed.  
  
Harry blinked. The light was the sunlight coming through the Weasley's window. He was on their couch, soaked with sweat and water.  
  
"Summer called me. You were thrashing horribly. We were afraid you were going to hurt yourself. We tried everything to wake you. Water, shaking, yelling, pinching, and..."  
  
Harry followed Hermione's gaze to his leg. Apparently Hermione had finally woken him by stabbing his leg with one of Mrs. Weasley's knitting needles.  
  
"We got desperate," Hermione explained, both embarrassed and appalled at what she had done. "Summer- we thought, well, it might be-"  
  
Harry reached over and yanked out the needle, more to delay answering than anything else. "Yes. It was," he said through clenched teeth at the renewed pain. "He tried to get our location. I was helpless." A bitter anger flooded him as he admitted this fact, both to Hermione and to himself. How was he supposed to beat a man who could control the wickedest men in the world?  
  
"Then he knows?" Hermione choked. "Oh, Harry."  
  
"No. He doesn't. I was able to delay him just long enough for you to wake me. We are safe." He avoided their eyes, and he knew by their silence that they were avoiding his. Nobody needed to say "for now." It hung in the air just the same. 


	6. Bustle at the Burrow

The Burrow, devoid of Weasleys, was much like an amusement park with all the rides shut down. Or at least, Harry assumed it was. He had never actually been to an amusement park with the rides up and running, more or less with them shut down, so he wasn't entirely sure. The house was full of signs of the excitement that normally filled the small, but warm house. Mrs. Weasley's knitting supplies, along with a half finished jumper, lay draped over the back of one chair, and a bag of the twins' joke candy lay in a corner by the window. Upstairs, each bedroom held its occupant's particular brand of clutter, from Ron's quidditch paraphernalia to Ginny's music boxes and wizarding band posters. And of course, the garage was covered in muggle artifacts, including what appeared to be a car that Mr. Weasley was trying to build from scratch.  
  
But like the amusement park, it lacked the activity and friendly auras of the Weasley's themselves. Without Ginny's laughing, Ron's babbling, Mr. Weasley's enthusiasm, Mrs. Weasley's stern but caring orders, and random explosions from the twins' room, the air seemed unnaturally quiet.  
  
Nervously, Harry, Hermione, and Summer went about settling in, feeling as intrusive as grave robbers. Harry's first order of business was to find some food, while Hermione set about the task of trying to braid Summer's massive hair. Crookshanks followed Harry in hopes of being fed too.  
  
Food was scarce, as Mrs. Weasley had cleared out anything perishable and the non-perishable foods were in cans that Harry had no idea how to open. Digging in the pantry he found a blank box, which upon investigation, proved to hold cereal. There was very little left, so he poured it in a bowl and left it for Crookshanks, who sniffed it once and then started eating lazily. Harry fished out a couple remaining pieces, popped them into his mouth, and then went back to searching. Eventually he found a large metal box buried deep in the back of the cupboard. It was marked with an R and locked with a simple padlock. Remembering Fred's brief lessons in lock picking, he went back to the den.  
  
"Do you have an extra hair pin?" Harry asked, still eyeing the box.  
  
"This is impossible!" Hermione moaned, as she handed him a wire pin. Summer sat patiently, her hair in a tangled, loose braid.  
  
"You could just cut it." Harry suggested as he slid the pin into the lock. The deadly quiet made him look up to see Hermione glaring at him. "Or not," he added sheepishly, as he put hair onto the list of things never to talk to women about.  
  
"I'm going to have to put it into a ponytail for now, okay, Summer?" Hermione sighed as she combed the knots out of her hair.  
  
"It's okay," Summer said comfortingly. "Daddy had a hard time too after Mom died."  
  
"What did you need the hair pin for?" Hermione asked Harry.  
  
"Oh, I'm trying to get this lock-There!" With a click, the padlock fell off. It hit the hardwood floor with a quiet thud.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione hissed. "You can't go breaking into the Weasleys stuff! It's bad enough that we broke into their house."  
  
"It's an emergency, I'm sure Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will understand. Besides, this is Ron's box. I found it in the cupboard."  
  
"Really? What's in it?" Hermione asked, all trepidation about the act gone.  
  
Harry opened the box. Inside was an assortment of papers, some sugar quills, half a chocolate frog and a box of cereal called "Salvo's Rocket Rice Puffs." The box was mostly full, so Harry took it out and got some bowls. Unfortunately, there was no milk so they had to eat it dry, but after such an exciting night, they were happy to have any food.  
  
Suddenly, Hermione gasped, and Harry spun around to see what she was staring at. Then he realized she was staring at him. "What is it?"  
  
"Harry... your hair!" Hermione fished out a mirror and held it up to Harry. A lock of his hair had turned a dark blue.  
  
"How did- Fred and George!" Harry said, drawing the obvious conclusion. "I tried some unmarked cereal. It must have been one of their pranks."  
  
"Why would you eat anything unmarked in this house?" Hermione laughed.  
  
"Well, Crookshanks seemed alright."  
  
"Crookshanks?" Hermione called out turning to peer behind Harry. Suddenly she screamed. "HARRY JAMES POTTER! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY CAT!"  
  
Crookshanks, now a violent shade of purple with yellow spots, mewed curiously, wondering what the commotion was about.  
  
After much apologizing, yelling, and hissing from Crookshanks, Harry managed to steer the conversation onto the safer topic of last night's dream.  
  
"He was very upset to learn that Tanya had lost this," Harry explained, placing the vial of red liquid on the table. "Really upset. Mad enough to cast the Cruciatus curse on Vargos for not telling him. But he was even more upset when he realized that he had accidentally told me."  
  
"But what is it?" Hermione asked, picking up the vial. The liquid was thick and sluggish, as Hermione flipped it one way then the other. "I've never seen a potion like this. It looks like... like-"   
  
"-like blood." Harry finished, taking it back. "And she only needed to use one drop too. Even powerful potions like veritaserum require three or four."  
  
"I'm impressed, Harry." Hermione smiled. "You actually paid attention in class, Snape's no less. You saw her use it then?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah, a single drop to the forehead."  
  
"Odd. What did it do?"  
  
Harry thought back. "I'm not entirely sure. She was pretty airy before she used it, but afterwards she was almost completely out of it. Francis was worried she was becoming addicted."  
  
"Then what?" Hermione pressed Harry, but he was having problems remembering.  
  
"Uh, she got scared. She said something about Francis being dead, then told him to finish off Smirl. That's when Smirl became a snake and bit him." Harry intentionally left out the part about him performing an unforgivable curse at the critical moment. He doubted Hermione would approve.  
  
"But what does it do?" Hermione asked, frustration tinting her voice.  
  
"I don't know. We'll have to wait and give it to Professor Dumbledore or Lupin when we get a chance. Until then we need to hide this..." Harry looked around for a good hiding place. He looked around and finally his eyes landed on the Weasley's family clock. "Perfect." He stepped over to the clock and opened it up. Carefully, he cast a sticking charm on the vial and stuck it to the back of the pendulum.  
  
"Clever," Hermione said with a smile.  
  
"How does it work?" Summer asked, looking at the clock.  
  
"Each hand represents one of the Weasleys. And they point to wherever they are or whatever they're doing." Harry stepped back and looked at the face of the clock. Mr. Weasley's hand was pointing to "At Work," leaving Harry to conclude that Order business counted as part of his job. Ron and Charlie were "Visiting Relatives" which must mean Bill who was "At Work" as well. Fred and George were "Home" which was obviously referring to their apartment in Diagon Alley, as they were not in the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley's and Ginny's hands were both pointing to "Looking for Something Lost." There was one more hand, its picture empty, pointing directly and unwaveringly at "Away."  
  
Harry watched Fred and George's hands move lazily to "At Work" when Hermione cleared her throat.  
  
"Well, now that that's out of the way, we really ought to get to work."  
  
"Work?"  
  
"Ron and the others won't be back for two weeks. I, for one, intend to earn my keep until then."  
  
And so, Harry found himself dutifully dusting furniture, while Hermione washed the windows and Summer swept the floors. In truth, he didn't mind, as the task, as menial as it was, helped keep his mind off of more troublesome thoughts. Like what would happen when he slept again.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry called as he came thundering down the stairs. He had spent most of the day cleaning and felt much better for it. The events of last night now seemed too distant to worry about. "Is there any more of this 'Sandi's Surface Solvent' stuff? I'm still..." Harry trailed off. Hermione was standing in the middle of the room, notably distant from any windows. Furthermore, she was holding something behind her back and a flush had crept up her face.  
  
"Um, I think I saw some in the cupboard?" Hermione said with a plea in her voice, clearly asking Harry to overlook this scenario.  
  
"What have you got there?" Harry asked stepping closer.  
  
"Nothing!" Hermione said, a little too quickly, taking an involuntary step backwards, her face growing pinker.  
  
"Hermione..." Harry tried to corner her, but she kept the table between them, and the object squarely behind her back.  
  
"It's just some spare parchment I was picking up." Hermione grew even pinker. Harry darted to one side, and managed to glimpse the red leather of a book spine.  
  
"That excuse didn't work on Snape, and it won't work on me," Harry said taking out his wand.  
  
Hermione's face now rivaled Ron's in terms of pinkness. "Harry!" she said desperately. "We're not supposed to do-"  
  
"Accio book!" Hermione was spun around as the object in her hands sped towards Harry. Harry snatched the little red book out of the air and examined it. It had a gold "R" on the front and inside was...  
  
"This is Ron's diary!" Harry exclaimed in shock.  
  
"Please don't tell him." Hermione begged. Her face had far surpassed Ron's at his most embarrassed, and was now teaching his hair a thing or to about the color red.  
  
"You read Ron's diary?" Harry asked in disbelief.  
  
"No! Of course not! I just... um... sort of skimmed it and..."  
  
"You read Ron's diary!"  
  
"I just wanted to know how..."  
  
"Know how what?" Harry asked curiously, enjoying having the moral superiority over Hermione for a change.  
  
Hermione lowered her head, and her voice, as she went through the subtle shift from being embarrassed about being caught, to being embarrassed of the act itself. "I just wanted to know if- Harry, look!"  
  
"I'm not falling for that." But Harry doubted Hermione could fake the sudden pallor that washed all the red from her face. A dark, loud, menacing chime roared out behind him. Harry spun to face the clock. Ron's hand was pointing straight up towards where the twelve would have been on a normal clock, but where this clock read "Mortal Peril."  
  
Harry and Hermione both froze, staring intently at Ron's hand, willing it to move. Harry had no idea how much time passed as Ron's hand wavered on the point. Finally, Bill and Charlie's hands swung past Mortal Peril and they all slid rapidly back to "visiting relatives," except for Bill's which moved on to "At Home."  
  
Harry and Hermione sighed collectively and Hermione rest her head on his shoulder. Harry looked at the book and pocketed it.  
  
"He's okay, right?" Summer asked, causing Harry to jump. He hadn't heard her come down.  
  
"Looks like he's fine." Harry said sitting down before his legs gave out.  
  
"I wonder what happened? You don't think it was He-who- I mean Voldemort?"  
  
"I don't think they'd have gotten out of it that easily if it was. Look, we can't figure out what it was right now, so let's not worry about it. We'll find out when they get back in two weeks."  
  
"Alright." Hermione said, still chewing her lip. "I'll go work on dinner."  
  
Dinner turned out to be salad that Hermione got from Mrs. Weasley's overrun garden.  
  
"Tomorrow we'll have to take out those garden gnomes. They're all over the place. I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep first though..." Hermione trailed off. Nobody had talked about the danger of Harry going to sleep, but it was unavoidable. Harry decided he would try running on coffee, but Hermione stressed that not only was it dangerous to go without sleep, but that it would be impossible to run solely on coffee for two entire weeks.  
  
Finally, they came up with a solution. Hermione would watch over Harry while he slept and wake him if he looked like Voldemort was attacking. With that agreed on, Hermione went upstairs to catch a quick nap, so that she wouldn't fall asleep. Harry meanwhile, started doing his Occlumency lessons, trying to clear his mind. He was vaguely aware of Summer watching him, but pushed that from his mind along with the rest of his thoughts and emotions.  
  
He woke up to Hermione shaking him. He had vague memories of the chamber and the darkness, but very little.  
  
His hand scrapped the table as he reached for the cereal, and he realized he still had the bracer on. Despite its weight, he found it was easy to forget about. He yawned, and then fumbled at the straps, but the clasps would not open, no matter how hard he tried. The note had mentioned that he might not be able to put it on, but it never said anything about not being able to take it off.  
  
"Ready to get to work?" Hermione asked, and Harry pulled his shirt back over the bracer. He wasn't in the mood for Hermione to lecture him about putting on possibly cursed items.  
  
The next two days passed rather uneventfully, which was a good thing as the gnomes had run rampant. In fact, it appeared as if they had declared civil war on each other. As far as Harry could tell, the gnomes were split into two groups: those who looked to Crookshanks as a God, and those who looked to Crookshanks as a cat. The former was the larger group, and thus had the upper hand, until now. The return of Crookshanks, now purple with yellow stars (the spots had grown overnight), had shattered the once united zealots into three new factions: the ones that believed that this was Crookshanks returned, the ones who thought that it was another god, separate but equal to Crookshanks, and the ones who thought that this was not Crookshanks, but a demon who was trying - and failing - to assume Crookshanks visage to lure them into darkness. The three religious factions, despite sharing the same root, fought all the more violently with each other. The outright warring had caused massive damage to the gardens, but at least it made them easier to catch, and they had the whole garden relatively gnome-free by the end of the third day.  
  
It was on the fourth day, however, that Harry met with two rather shocking events.  
  
The first happened while Harry was outside hunting pawns. He and Hermione had earlier attempted to play a game of wizard's chess with Ron's chess set, but without any Weasleys present, the pieces had assumed the worst and scattered, forming pocket resistance forces around the house.  
  
Harry found three of the pawns, and one of the black knights, trying to hammer out a treaty with the Great Gazagle of the Church of the True Orange Hunter. He pocketed the pieces and flung the reassembling clergy back over the fence.  
  
Summer's laugh caught his attention. She was watching from the porch, jump rope in hand. Harry noted that she was acted quite young for her age, much younger than he could ever remember being, and that Hermione had been much more insistent that Harry earn his keep than she was of Summer. Since the chess pieces were a bit more dangerous than the gnomes, and since she hadn't been involved in their release, she was allowed to goof off. She waved at Harry, who waved back, and then she went back to jumping. Harry went back to hunting, until he heard her jump rope rhyme.  
  
"Emerald green letters on an old yellow note,  
  
Says come to Hogwarts, 'cuz that's what he wrote."  
  
Harry paused, letting a white pawn escape. Did she mention Hogwarts? But she had just learned about Hogwarts a few days ago. Could she have made a new jump rope rhyme in that time? He turned and listened as she continued.  
  
"Poor little child, he got a big scar,  
  
Got it from a wizard, but they said it was a car.  
  
It's sad his mom and dad had to give,  
  
Their lives so he could be the Boy Who Lived."  
  
Harry froze, the pawn completely forgotten. How could she know? He had never mentioned it in front of her. And nobody knew about his uncle claiming that he got his scar from a car crash except Hagrid.  
  
"Summer?" Harry called out. "Where did you learn that jump rope rhyme?"  
  
Summer stopped jumping, the rope clattering to the ground. She looked at Harry with piercing blue eyes. "Mother taught it to me, shortly before she died. She said it was very important that I remember it, but never to tell Dad. She said that I would know when to sing it."  
  
"Is there any more?" Harry asked, a lump forming in his throat.  
  
"There's a lot more, but I'm not supposed to sing it yet." Summer said darkly.  
  
"When will you sing it?"  
  
"When I find the right people." She said matter-of-factly. "But I can sing my verse!" She brightened up and started singing, bouncing on the balls of her feet to the beat:  
  
"Sweet little girl, you never quite fit,  
  
Your daddy didn't know it but your mommy was a witch.  
  
She had to leave; it's sad but true,  
  
To guard the secrets from You-Know-Who."  
  
Harry couldn't believe his ears. Here he was, stranded without outside information, and suddenly he was confronted with a secret in the most unexpected of places. A secret that was perhaps, unknown to anybody. Whatever it was, it had to have some importance for Summer's mother to have hidden it in Summer's jump rope rhyme.  
  
"Can you sing the rest of the song for me?" Harry asked enthusiastically.  
  
Summer shook her head.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It isn't time."  
  
"What's all the noise about?" Hermione asked as she stepped outside, a rook and a bishop struggling in each hand.  
  
"Summer's mother was a witch, and some kind of Auror or something," Harry said energetically. "She left some kind of message with Summer as a jump rope rhyme. A secret she was guarding from Voldemort."  
  
"Really?" Hermione looked eagerly at Summer, like she was a puzzle waiting to be solved. "What did it say?"  
  
"I don't know. I've only heard two verses. The first one was about me, and I think it was mostly just to get my attention. The second verse was about Summer and her mother, and seemed to be more an explanation than anything else. Summer says she won't sing anymore until it is time."  
  
"How do we know when it's time?" Hermione asked, not giving up.  
  
"When something reminds me of the right time," Summer said softly. "The people in the rhyme."  
  
Hermione looked disappointed so Harry added, "the song mentions Hogwarts, so maybe the other students are in the song."  
  
"Well, I'm a student," Hermione said impatiently, not liking having another mystery unsolved right in front of her. "Do you have any rhymes about me?"  
  
Summer studied Hermione for a long moment her sharp blue eyes taking in every detail. Her eyes went wide and she shook her head violently. Hermione was about to press the point when Harry held up his hand for silence. The radio had been playing the Weird Sisters but they had been cut off mid-song. Harry, Hermione, and Summer all listened as the announcer tried to make his voice heard over the three furious witches.  
  
"We interrupt these... very lovely musicians with an important news bulletin," The reporter said nervously. "The Ministry has rescinded it's proximity warnings on Little Whinging. We now go live to the scene with Rita Skeeter."  
  
"Thank you, Tom," The acidic voice of Rita said, loaded with energy. "Yes this is my first radio broadcast. But don't worry loyal readers. I'm not abandoning the Daily Prophet. I have dedicated my life to delivering the truth, no matter how controversial, no matter how dangerous, no matter how upsetting it may be, wherever and whenever possible. And in this case, wherever happens to be the shattered remains of Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, where a devastating attack happened not four days ago. Over one hundred muggles have had their memories modified, and two dozen are dead, making this the most vicious and deadly attack in the past twenty-"  
  
"No, it isn't, ma'am," said a stern voice.  
  
"Who do you think - Oh, it's Corporal Jordan T. Bookit, Undersecretary of the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Rita's voice went from hate-filled to delighted the instant she recognized the man. "Are you suffering from any resistance from the Department of Muggle Control?"  
  
"No Ma'am, we often work together, so things run pretty smoothly between us," Corporal Bookit said stiffly. He reminded Harry very much of Percy.  
  
"Oh," Rita said, barely hiding the disappointment in her voice.  
  
"Furthermore, your earlier statistics were incorrect. Only three muggles died in the assault: two muggle law enforcers, also known as bobbies, and a man they were escorting. As far as we can tell, a wizard tricked them out of a car outside Number 16 Scullery Drive. As for the muggle memory modification, that is more or less true. The exact number is one hundred and fifteen, making this the messiest attack, but by no means the most deadly. Now if you'll follow me, I'll take you to a secure location, so we may talk without risking upping the number of muggles."  
  
"It must have been Tanya venting," Harry said, but Hermione wasn't listening. She was kneeling and talking to Summer who was shaking.  
  
"It wasn't your father, Summer. He must have been out of there long before that happened," Hermione said, but her voice wavered.  
  
"Alright, we're secure now," Corporal Bookit said briskly. "Now, if there are any questions I can answer, please make it quick. I have a lot of work to do, and I don't have time to baby-sit reporters."  
  
"Oh, this will be quick," Rita said sharply. "Now, Jordan, I can call you Jordan correct? Why did the Death Eaters attack?"  
  
"Corporal Bookit, will suffice. We are currently unaware as to why this attack occurred, or even if it WAS Death Eaters, although they remain our most likely culprits. Most of our work so far has been to fortify this area, making sure it was safe to work in. Reporters weren't in mind when they flashed the all-clear for Little Whinging." It was very clear by Corporal Bookit's voice that he did not approve of Rita's presence. "The target appeared to be something, or someone in this house, a wizard's house, if we are correct, although unregistered. The attackers moved in groups of two, and set up a stati-ward, the most powerful one I've seen recorded. It not only prevented apparation to the point of stopping House Elves, but it also made creating portkey's impossible. We had to make them outside the field and bring them in until we got it down. They chased their target down towards Number 16 Scullery at which point we lost all signs of both the lone chaser and their victim. We did find a lone wizard, one Francis Bonaparte, killed by a snake bite wound. Whoever his partner was, killed the police officers and fled on foot."  
  
"So it was done by Death Eaters," Rita said triumphantly.  
  
"As I said, most likely. We do know that Francis was wanted for various... unsavory acts, and was suspected of being a Death Eater, but we have no confirmed evidence that he was indeed in league with Voldemort."  
  
Rita let out a gasp at the mention of Voldemort's name. She didn't let her shock get in the way of trying to butter him up though. "Very few are willing to say You-Know-Who's name. You must be very brave."  
  
"No ma'am, I simply say his name because that's what he is called. If I knew his real name, I'd call him that. All this "You-Know-Who" nonsense just makes for messy book-keeping. Now if you'll excuse me, Miss Skeeter. You're time is up. I will have a deputy escort you to your car, broom, or other means of tranportation."  
  
"One more question, Jordan. Is there any evidence that the target was not Harry Potter?"  
  
There was a moment of silence, before Corporal Bookit responded. "Technically, there is no evidence that it was not Harry Potter, but the odds of it being-"  
  
"This has been Rita Skeeter reporting. Let us all take a moment of silence to honor the memory of the beloved Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived."  
  
"Now, just a moment, I never said-" But Corporal Bookit was cut off as the radio switched back over to the station to a very startled announcer.  
  
"And now... um... back to... the Weird Sisters..."  
  
The days passed quietly, but with a dark mood. Bolstered by the lack of contradictions to her claim, and Harry's absence from the wizarding world, Rita Skeeter launched into a series of reports and interviews entitled "The Death of a Legend: The Story of Harry Potter." Of course, Rita made no mention of any faults of Harry, except to point out that he faced the adversity of being doubted by the world. She painted Harry to be a flawless man, loved by all. This did little to improve Harry's mood. It was all over the radio and, judging by the occasional newspaper Hedwig managed to turn up, all over the front page of the Prophet every day. Rita had even gone to the lengths of ambushing Harry's friends with live interviews. The first target was Parvati, who, not having heard the "news" before, burst into tears. Sure enough, the next Prophet Hedwig found had labeled Parvati "Harry's Grieving Lover." But after Hagrid and Neville's Gran both threatened her off their property and Oliver Wood unleashed a bludger on her, all on live radio, she left Harry's real friends to the Quick Quote's Quill and saved her live interviews for glory seekers pretending to know Harry.  
  
The rumors quickly became accepted fact and soon the radio was abuzz with arguments of where Harry's tomb should be and if and where a monument should be built. It was during one of these arguments that Harry slammed the radio off and kept it off, although he was pretty sure Hermione listened to it when he was asleep or outside.  
  
The only comforting thing was his continued triumph over Voldemort's legillemency. Whether it was due to his occlumency defenses or because Voldemort was growing tired from continually attacking, Harry didn't know. But the attacks grew weaker and weaker until, on the sixth day, they stopped completely. Harry's first full night of sleep was very much welcome, but he wasn't foolish enough to let his guard down.  
  
Slightly less comforting was his lack of other dreams. Despite being put off by his inability to give coherent answers, Harry wished he could pry another clue or two from the gray-haired knight, and learn more about the mysterious hallway.  
  
The days passed in a blur of alternating activity and rest, and despite himself, Harry started to relax. There was a magic in the Burrow, a coziness that lingered even with the occupants gone. Harry found himself unable to resist the feeling of hominess that permeated the air.  
  
Hermione was never one to waste time and so she spent her free time knitting elf clothes, by hand of course, but Harry noticed that she was almost constantly glancing up at the clock. Whether she was hoping for signs of any of the Weasleys returning, or if she was just making sure Ron's hand stayed clear of "Mortal Peril" Harry couldn't say. But regardless, the hands stayed where they were, save for Fred, George, and Bill, who would occasionally switch from "Work" to "Home" or back again.  
  
Harry, on the other hand, was having a harder time keeping busy. All his usual past-times were out. He couldn't go for a walk, or ride a broom, even if he had one, on the off-chance that some one might spot him. Ron wasn't there to talk to, and although Hermione was, Harry didn't feel much like talking lately anyway. His gobstones were lost at Privet Drive, along with his Wizarding Card collection. He couldn't even study.  
  
He was able to pass some time answering Summer's questions about Hogwarts and teaching her how to play Exploding Snap with a deck he found in Ron's room. But the naturally quiet girl asked very few questions. Furthermore, she was too passive to be a challenge at Exploding Snap. So Harry spent most of his free time pacing and going over what he would do for lessons, should the need for the D.A. return.  
  
Harry knew that he should be happy that Dumbledore had regained control of the school - and, in truth, he was - but part of him wished that the Ministry still opposed the idea that Voldemort had returned. He remembered the fun of teaching his classmates and the thrill of leading them in secret revolt against Umbridge's horrid regime. Even if it did lead to...  
  
Harry shook the thoughts from his head and returned to the Exploding Snap castle he was building. He had already finished the Keep and was working on the outer walls. He was balancing two cards to make the top of a tower when a shriek from the kitchen caused him to topple the whole thing. Wiping the soot from his eyes, Harry got up to find out what happened.   
  
The kitchen was a mess. A gooey yellow substance covered the walls, the counters, and the front half of Hermione. Hermione stared blankly at Harry for a moment before managing a weak grin.  
  
"I was trying to bake a cake." She gestured at the mess. "For your birthday tomorrow."  
  
Harry blinked. He had completely lost track of the days. But if tomorrow was his birthday, then the Weasleys would return in two more days. Then maybe he could start sorting out his life and get himself declared not dead.  
  
"I think I used too much magic yeast," Hermione went on, snapping Harry back to reality, "but I'm not sure. I thought it would be easy like potions, but there aren't all the signs telling you if you're doing something right or not."  
  
Harry debated if he should comfort her for trying, or chastise her for calling potions easy. But before he could do either a wave of fear washed over him. He started to focus, trying to banish the foreign emotions with occlumency, but then he recognized the source as...  
  
"Summer!" He cried as he raced out of the kitchen, Hermione right behind him.  
  
They found Summer in the front yard. She was barefooted and sweating, and there were grass stains on the hem of her borrowed robe. Fireflies of every color filled the air. Whatever she had been doing, she wasn't anymore. Now she was standing motionlessly, staring at a spot in the nearby forest. Harry followed her gaze, but saw nothing except two silver fireflies. At least, he thought they were fireflies, until he realized that they weren't moving. They were eyes.  
  
The creature moved forward, the shadows around it so dark, that it might as well been nothing but eyes, floating in the darkness.  
  
"Hermione. Get Summer inside," Harry ordered, as he slowly moved forward, placing himself between the girls and whatever it was in the forest. As he did, the gibbous moon appexed the Burrow, flooding the ground with silver light, causing the fireflies to flee. The creature's eyes glowed all the brighter for it, but it's body remained as black as pitch, as if the moonlight itself couldn't touch it. The light did highlight its shape, however, and as it approached, Harry saw that it was a giant cat. As sleek and muscular as a cougar or panther, but larger still, about the size of a fully grown lion. As it moved, moonlight danced like fire across a copper object on the upper portion of the monstrous cat's right foreleg. It was cylindrical: two metal rings around its leg, and connected by twisting, crisscrossed, barbed metal wires. Harry could feel an evil emanating, but whether it was from the creature or the object, he couldn't say.  
  
In the corner of his eye, Harry could see Hermione coaxing and pulling the terrified Summer towards the house. The cat saw too, and bared its glistening white fangs. Harry reached for his wand, moving as slowly as possible. But as slow as his movements were, the creature saw it, and before he could reach his sleeve, the creature charged.  
  
His fingers touched the tip of his wand before he was tackled, the beast's sharp claws digging deep into his chest. Desperately, Harry tried to push back the creature, while still trying to pull his wand out of his sleeve. He managed to shove it back a bit with his left hand, but, again, before he could reach his wand, the black creature moved to stop him, this time clamping its razor sharp teeth down on Harry's arm with a loud crack. Fire lanced down Harry's arm as he let out a blood curdling scream.  
  
Give in. the dry voice said mournfully. Why do you let yourself suffer, when it can all be over? But this time, Harry didn't listen. Indeed, he could barely hear it over the pain. His brain had completely given over to survival instinct and that told him to kill that which was hurting him.  
  
With that thought solely filling Harry's mind, he lashed out with his remaining arm, catching it in the side of the head. There was a bright flash of light, and the creature was sent flying. The pain became even worse as the beast's teeth and claws ripped off even more of his flesh as it was flung from him. It took all of Harry's will not to pass out.  
  
Nearly blinded by pain and tears, Harry groped around for his wand. Seizing his precious weapon, he lurched to his feet, holding it out menacingly. He hoped that the creature would recognize what it meant. He hoped that it wouldn't decide to risk attacking an armed wizard. And he hoped that it didn't notice that the wand was cracked down the middle.  
  
Fortunately for Harry, his luck turned, and the creature acknowledged the wand as a threat. It let out a deep, menacing roar, and then limped into the woods.  
  
His adrenaline fading, Harry fell into a fiery nightmare. He was briefly aware of Voldemort trying to enter, but failing to withstand the chaotic fire. Mostly, he saw the white beetle watching him hungrily. He also heard the dry voice.  
  
Why do you linger in this world Harry? It said concernedly. You are delaying your destiny and your happiness, and every time you do so, you suffer needless pain. When a limb is too severely damaged, it must be cut off so the rest of the body can survive. Thus, you must cut yourself free from your corporeal body, so you can be free to join those you love.  
  
Harry awoke feverishly the next day. The smell of blood assaulted his nose. He was dimly aware, by the volume of the ghoul's clanking, that he was in Ron's room. Hermione must have carried or dragged him as high as she could go. His arm and chest were in agony, as if on fire, and his vision was blurred.  
  
"Hermione?" He croaked.  
  
"Shhh," Hermione whispered, stepping up beside him. He could vaguely make out Summer standing guard at the door. "You must be quiet."  
  
Harry was about to ask why, when he heard a creak from lower in the house, followed by a slamming door.  
  
"We're not alone, Harry. Somebody else is in the house!" 


End file.
